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Columbia  toibersitg 

STUDIES  IN  ROMANCE  PHILOLOGY  AND 
LITERA rURE 


FREDERIC   MISTRAL 

POET  AND  LEADER  IN  PROVENCE 


■y^y^ 


FRl:DfeRIC  MISTRAL 


FREDERIC  MISTRAL 


POET  AND  LEADER  IN  PROVENCE 


BY 


CHARLES  ALFRED  DOWNER 

ASSISTANT   PROFESSOR  IN  THE  FRENCH   LANGUAOS  AND 

LITERATURE    IN  THE    COLLEQB  OF  THB 

CITT  OF  NEW  YORK 


"Ntta  gorfe 

THE  COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY,  Agents 

66  Fifth  Atbnub 

1901 

AU  rigkU  rttervtd 


COPTBIOBT,   1901, 

Bi  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


J.  8-  Cnihing  It  Co.  —  Berwick  k  Smith 
Norwood  Mms.  VS.A. 


PREFACE 

This  study  of  the  poetry  and  life-work  of 
the  leader  of  the  modern  Provencal  renaissance 
was  submitted  in  partial  fulfilment  of  the  re- 
quirements for  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philoso- 
phy at  Columbia  University.  My  interest  in 
Mistral  was  first  awakened  by  an  article  from 
the  pen  of  the  great  Romance  philologist,  Gas- 
ton Paris,  which  appeared  in  the  Revue  de  Paris 
in  October,  1894.  The  idea  of  writing  the 
book  came  to  me  during  a  visit  to  Provence  in 
1897.  Two  years  later  I  visited  the  south  of 
France  again,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Mistral  in  his  own  home.  It  is  my  pleasant 
duty  to  express  here  once  again  my  gratitude 
for  his  kindly  hospitality  and  for  his  sugges- 
tions in  regard  to  works  upon  the  history  of 
the  Felibrige.  Not  often  does  he  who  studies 
the  works  of  a  poet  in  a  foreign  tongue  enjoy 
as  I  did  the  privilege  of  hearing  the  verse  from 
the  poet's  own  lips.     It  was  an  hour  not  to  be 


vi  PREFACE 

forgotten,  and  the  beauty  of  the  language  has 
been  for  me  since  then  as  real  as  that  of  music 
finely  rendered,  and  the  force  of  the  poet's  per- 
sonality was  impressed  upon  me  as  it  scarcely 
could  have  been  even  from  a  most  sympathetic 
and  searching  perusal  of  his  works.  His  great 
influence  in  southern  France  and  his  great  per- 
sonal popularity  are  not  difficult  to  understand 
when  one  has  seen  the  man. 

As  the  striking  fact  in  the  works  of  this 
Frenchman  is  that  they  are  not  written  in 
French,  but  in  Provencal,  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  present  essay  is  devoted  to  the 
language  itself.  But  it  did  not  appear  fitting 
that  too  much  space  should  be  devoted  to  the 
purely  linguistic  side  of  the  subject.  There  is 
a  field  here  for  a  great  deal  of  special  study, 
and  the  results  of  such  investigations  will  be 
embodied  in  special  works  by  those  who  make 
philological  studies  their  special  province.  In 
the  first  division  of  the  present  work,  however, 
along  with  the  life  of  the  poet  and  the  history 
of  the  Felibrige,  a  description  of  the  language 
is  given,  which  is  an  account  at  least  of  its 
distinctive  features.  A  short  chapter  will  be 
found  devoted  to  the  subject  of  the  versifica- 


PREFACE  vii 

tion  of  the  poets  who  write  in  the  new  speech. 
This  subject  is  not  treated  in  Koschwitz's  ad- 
mirable grammar  of  the  language. 

The  second  division  is  devoted  to  the  poems. 
The  epics  of  Mistral,  if  we  may  venture  to  use 
the  term,  are,  with  the  exception  of  Lamartine's 
Jocelyn^  the  most  remarkable  long  narrative 
poems  that  have  been  produced  in  France  in 
modern  times.  At  least  one  of  them  would 
appear  to  be  a  work  of  the  highest  rank  and 
destined  to  live.  Among  the  short  poems  that 
constitute  the  volume  called  Lis  Isclo  d'  Or  are 
a  number  of  masterpieces. 

This  book  aims  to  present  all  the  essential 
facts  in  the  history  of  this  astonishing  revival 
of  a  language,  and  to  bring  out  the  chief  aspects 
of  Mistral's  life-work.  In  our  conclusions  we 
have  not  yielded  to  the  temptation  to  prophesy. 
The  conflicting  tendencies  of  cosmopolitanism 
and  nationalism  abroad  in  the  world  to-day 
give  rise  to  fascinating  speculations  as  to  the 
future.  In  the  Felibrean  movement  we  have 
a  very  interesting  problem  of  this  kind,  and  no 
one  can  terminate  a  study  of  the  subject  with- 
out asking  himself  the  question,  "What  is  going 
to  come  out  of  it  all  ?  "     No  one  can  tell,  and 


viii  PREFACE 

SO  we  have  not  ventured  beyond  the  attempt  to 
present  the  case  as  it  actually  exists. 

Let  me  here  also  offer  an  expression  of  grati- 
tude to  Professor  Adolphe  Cohn  and  to  Pro- 
fessor Henry  A.  Todd  of  Columbia  University 
for  their  advice  and  guidance  during  the  past 
six  years.  Their  kindness  and  the  inspiration 
of  their  example  must  be  reckoned  among  those 
things  that  cannot  be  repaid. 

New  Yobk,  March,  1901. 


CONTENTS 


PART  FIRST 


The  Revival  of  the  Provencal  Language 

CHAPTER  PA6B 

I.    Introduction.    Life  of  Mistral         ...  3 

II.     The  Fdlibrige 24 

III.     The  Modern  Proven9al,  or,  more  accurately, 

The  Language  of  the  Felibres      ...  43 
rV.     The  Versification  of  the  Felibres     ...  75 
V.    Mistral's   Dictionary  of  the   Proven9al   Lan- 
guage.    (Lou  Tresor  ddu  Felibrige)    .        .  92 

PART  SECOND 
The  Poetical  Works  of  Mistral 


L 

The  Four  Longer  Poems  . 

1.  Mireio 

2.  Calendau .        .        .        . 

3.  Nerto 

4.  Lou  Poufemo  ddu  Rose 

99 

.      99 

127 

151 

159 

n. 

Lis  Isclo  d'Or   . 

181 

III. 

The  Tragedy,  La  Reino  Jano 
ix 

212 

X  CONTENTS 


PART  THIRD 

PAOB 

Conclusions 237 


Appendix.    Translation  of  the  Fsalm  of  Penitence    253 

Bibliography 259 

Index 265 


PART   FIRST 

THE  BEVIVAL  OF  THE  PROVENgAL 
LANGUAGE 


FREDERIC   MISTRAL 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTION 

The  present  century  has  witnessed  a  remark- 
able literary  phenomenon  in  the  south  of  France, 
a  remarkable  rebirth  of  local  patriotism.  A 
language  has  been  born  again,  so  to  speak, 
and  once  more,  after  a  sleep  of  many  hundred 
years,  the  sunny  land  that  was  the  cradle  of 
modern  literature,  offers  us  a  new  efflorescence 
of  poetry,  embodied  in  the  musical  tongue  that 
never  has  ceased  to  be  spoken  on  the  soil  where 
the  Troubadours  sang  of  love.  Those  who 
began  this  movement  knew  not  whither  they 
were  tending.  From  small  beginnings,  out  of 
a  kindly  desire  to  give  the  humbler  folk  a 
simple,  homely  literature  in  the  language  of 
their  firesides,  there  grew  a  higher  ambition. 
The  ProveuQal  language  put  forth  claims  to 
exist  coequally  with  the  French  tongue  on 
3 


4  frI:d6ric  mistral 

French  soil.  Memories  of  the  former  glories 
of  the  southern  regions  of  France  began  to 
stir  within  the  hearts  of  the  modern  poets  and 
leaders.  They  began  to  chafe  under  the  strong 
political  and  intellectual  centralization  that  pre- 
vails in  France,  and  to  seek  to  bring  about  a 
change.  The  movement  has  passed  through 
numerous  phases,  has  been  frequently  misin- 
terpreted and  misunderstood,  and  may  now, 
after  it  has  attained  to  tangible  results,  be 
defined  as  an  aim,  on  the  part  of  its  leaders, 
to  make  the  south  intellectually  independent 
of  Paris.  It  is  an  attempt  to  restore  among 
the  people  of  the  Rhone  region  a  love  of  their 
ancient  customs,  language,  and  traditions,  an 
effort  to  raise  a  sort  of  dam  against  the  flood 
of  modern  tendencies  that  threaten  to  over- 
whelm local  life.  These  men  seek  to  avoid 
that  dead  level  of  uniformity  to  which  the 
national  life  of  France  appears  to  them  in 
danger  of  sinking.  In  the  earlier  days,  the 
leaders  of  this  movement  were  often  accused 
at  Paris  of  a  spirit  of  political  separatism; 
they  were  actually  mistrusted  as  secessionists, 
and  certain  it  is  that  among  them  have  been 
several  champions  of  the  idea  of  decentraliza- 


INTRODUCTION  6 

tion.  To-day  there  are  found  in  their  ranks  a 
few  who  advocate  the  federal  idea  in  the  politi- 
cal organization  of  France.  However,  there 
seems  never  to  have  been  a  time  when  the 
movement  promised  seriously  to  bring  about 
practical  political  changes;  and  whatever  po- 
litical significance  it  may  have  to-day  goes  no 
farther  than  what  may  be  contained  in  germ  in 
the  effort  at  an  intense  local  life. 

The  land  of  the  Troubadours  is  now  the  land 
of  the  Felibres ;  these  modern  singers  do  not 
forget,  nor  will  they  allow  the  people  of  the 
south  to  forget,  that  the  union  of  France  with 
Provence  was  that  of  an  equal  with  an  equal, 
not  of  a  principal  with  a  subordinate.  Patriots 
they  are,  however,  ardent  lovers  of  France,  and 
proofs  of  their  strong  affection  for  their  coun- 
try are  not  wanting.  To-day,  amid  all  their 
activity  and  demonstrations  in  behalf  of  what 
they  often  call  "  la  petite  patrie"  no  enemies  or 
doubters  are  found  to  question  their  loyalty  to 
the  greater  fatherland. 

The  movement  began  in  the  revival  of  the 
Provengal  language,  and  was  at  first  a  very 
modest  attempt  to  make  it  serve  merely  better 
purposes  than  it  had  done  after  the  eclipse  that 


6  fr6d6ric  mistral 

followed  the  Albigensian  war.  For  a  long  time 
the  linguistic  and  literary  aspect  of  all  this 
activity  was  the  only  one  that  attracted  any 
attention  in  the  rest  of  France  or  in  Provence 
itself.  Not  that  the  Provengal  language  had 
ever  quite  died  out  even  as  a  written  language. 
Since  the  days  of  the  Troubadours  there  had 
been  a  continuous  succession  of  writers  in  the 
various  dialects  of  southern  Fjance,  but  very 
few  of  them  were  men  of  power  and  talent. 
Among  the  immediate  predecessors  of  the  Feli- 
bres  must  be  mentioned  Saboly,  whose  Noels,  or 
Christmas  songs,  are  to-day  known  all  over  the 
region,  and  Jasmin,  who,  however,  wrote  in  a 
different  dialect.  Jasmin's  fame  extended  far 
beyond  the  limited  audience  for  which  he  wrote  ; 
his  work  came  to  the  attention  of  the  cultured 
through  the  enthusiastic  praise  of  Sainte-Beuve, 
and  he  is  to-day  very  widely  known.  The  Eng- 
lish-speaking world  became  acquainted  with 
him  chiefly  through  the  translations  of  Long- 
fellow. Jasmin,  however,  looked  upon  himself 
as  the  last  of  a  line,  and  when,  in  his  later 
years,  he  heard  of  the  growing  fame  of  the  new 
poets  of  the  Rhone  country,  it  is  said  he  looked 
upon    them   with    disfavor,   if    not    jealousy. 


INTRODUCTION  7 

Strange  to  say,  he  was,  in  the  early  days,  un- 
known to  those  whose  works,  like  his,  have  now 
attained  well-nigh  world-wide  celebrity. 

The  man  who  must  justly  be  looked  upon  as 
the  father  of  the  present  movement  was  Joseph 
Roumanille.  He  was  born  in  1818,  in  the  little 
town  of  Saint-Remy,  a  quaint  old  place,  proud 
of  some  remarkable  Roman  remains,  situated 
to  the  south  of  Avignon.  Roumanille  was  far 
from  foreseeing  the  consequences  of  the  im- 
pulse he  had  given  in  arousing  interest  in  the 
old  dialect,  and,  until  he  beheld  the  astonislihig 
successes  of  Mistral,  strongly  disapproved  the 
ambitions  of  a  number  of  his  fellow-poets  to 
seek  an  audience  foy  their  productions  outside 
of  the  immediate  region.  He  had  no  more  ambi- 
tious aim  than  to  raise  the  patois  of  Saint-Remy 
out  of  the  veritable  mire  into  which  it  had  sunk  ; 
it  pained  him  to  see  that  the  speech  of  his  fire- 
side was  never  used  in  writing  except  for  trifles 
and  obscenities.  Of  him  is  told  the  touching 
story  that  one  day,  while  reciting  in  his  home 
before  a  company  of  friends  some  poems  in 
French  that  he  had  written,  he  observed  tears 
in  his  mother's  eyes.  She  could  not  understand 
the  poetry  his  friends  so  much  admired.     Rou- 


8  FRfeDfiRIC  MISTRAL 

manille,  much  moved,  resolved  to  write  no  verses 
that  his  mother  could  not  enjoy,  and  henceforth 
devoted  himself  ardently  to  the  task  of  purify- 
ing and  perfecting  the  dialect  of  Saint-Remy. 
It  has  been  said,  no  less  truthfully  than  poeti- 
cally, that  from  a  mother's  tear  was  born  the 
new  Provengal  poetry,  destined  to  so  splendid 
a  career. 

We  of  the  English-speaking  race  are  apt  to 
wonder  at  this  love  of  a  local  dialect.  This 
vigorous  attempt  to  create  a  first-rate  literature, 
alongside  and  independent  of  the  national  litera- 
ture, seems  strange  or  unnatural.  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  one  language,  spoken  over  immense 
areas,  and  we  rejoice  to  see  it  grow  and  spread, 
more  and  more  perfectly  unified.  With  all 
their  local  color,  in  spite  of  their  expression 
of  provincial  or  colonial  life,  the  writings  of 
a  Kipling  are  read  and  enjoyed  wherever  the 
English  language  has  penetrated.  In  Italy  we 
find  patriots  and  writers  working  with  utmost 
energy  to  bring  into  being  a  really  national  lan- 
guage. Nearly  all  the  governments  of  Europe 
seek  to  impose  the  language  of  the  capital  upon 
the  schools.  Unification  of  language  seems  a 
most  desirable  thing,  and,  superficially  consid- 


INTRODUCTION  9 

ered,  the  tendency  would  appear  to  be  in  that 
direction.  But  the  truth  is  that  there  exists  all 
over  Europe  a  war  of  tongues.  The  Welsh, 
the  Basques,  the  Norwegians,  the  Bohemians, 
the  Finns,  the  Hungarians,  are  of  one  mind 
with  Daudet  and  Mistral,  who  both  express  the 
sentiment,  "  He  who  holds  to  his  language,  holds 
the  key  of  his  prison." 

So  Roumanille  loved  and  cherished  the  melo- 
dious speech  of  the  Rhone  valley.  He  hoped 
to  see  the  langue  d'oc  saved  from  destruction, 
he  strove  against  the  invasion  of  the  northern 
speech  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  it.  He 
wrote  sweet  verses  and  preached  the  gospel  of 
the  home-speech.  One  day  he  discovered  a  boy 
whom  he  calls  "  I'enfant  sublime,"  and  the  pupil 
soon  carried  his  dreams  to  a  realization  far 
beyond  his  fondest  hopes.  Not  Roumanille, 
but  Frederic  Mistral  has  made  the  new  Proven- 
gal  literature  what  it  is.  In  him  were  combined 
all  the  qualities,  all  the  powers  requisite  for  the 
task,  and  the  task  grew  with  time.  It  became 
more  than  a  question  of  language.  Mistral 
soon  came  to  seek  not  only  the  creation  of  an 
independent  literature,  he  aimed  at  nothing  less 
than  a  complete   revolution,  or  rather  a  com- 


10  FRfeDfjRIC  MISTRAL 

plete  rebirth,  of  the  mental  life  of  southern 
France.  Provence  was  to  save  her  individu- 
ality entire.  Geographically  at  the  central 
point  of  the  lands  inhabited  by  the  so-called 
Latin  races,  she  was  to  regain  her  ancient  promi- 
nence, and  cause  the  eyes  of  her  sisters  to  turn 
her  way  once  more  with  admiration  and  affec- 
tion. The  patois  of  Saint- Remy  has  been 
developed  and  expanded  into  a  beautiful  lit- 
erary language.  The  inertia  of  the  Provencals 
themselves  has  been  overcome.  There  is  un- 
doubtedly a  new  intellectual  life  in  tlie  Rhone 
valley,  and  the  fame  of  the  Felibres  and  their 
great  work  has  gone  abroad  into  distant 
lands. 

The  purpose,  then,  of  the  present  disserta- 
tion, will  be  to  give  an  account  of  the  language 
of  the  Felibres,  and  to  examine  critically  the 
literary  work  of  their  acknowledged  chief  and 
guiding  spirit,  Frederic  Mistral. 

The  story  of  his  life  he  himself  has  told  most 
admirably  in  the  preface  to  the  first  edition  of 
Ids-  Isclo  d'  Or,  published  at  Avignon  in  1874. 
He  was  born  in  1830,  on  the  8th  day  of  Septem- 
ber, at  Maillane.  Maillane  is  a  village,  near 
Saint-Remy,  situated  in  the  centre  of  a  broad 


INTRODUCTION  11 

plain  that  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Alpilles,  the 
westernmost  rocky  heights  of  the  Alps.  Here 
the  poet  is  still  living,  and  here  he  has  passed 
his  life  almost  uninterruptedly.  His  father's 
home  was  a  little  way  out  of  the  village,  and 
the  boy  was  brought  up  at  the  mas,^  amid  farm- 
hands and  shepherds.  His  father  had  married 
a  second  time  at  the  age  of  fifty-five,  and  our 
poet  was  the  only  child  of  this  second  mar- 
riage. 

The  story  of  the  first  meeting  of  his  parents 
is  thus  told  by  the  poet :  — 

"One  year,  on  St.  John's  day,  Maitre  Fran^ 
Qois  Mistral  was  in  the  midst  of  his  wheat, 
which  a  company  of  harvesters  were  reaping. 
A  throng  of  young  girls,  gleaning,  followed  the 
reapers  and  raked  up  the  ears  that  fell.  Maitre 
Frangois  (Meste  Frances  in  Provencal),  my 
father,  noticed  a  beautiful  girl  that  remained 
behind  as  if  she  were  ashamed  to  glean  like 
the  others.     He  drew  near  and  said  to  her :  — 

" '  My  child,  whose  daughter  are  you?  What 
is  your  name  ? ' 

^The  word  mas,  which  is  kin  with  the  English  manse  and 
mansion,  signifies  the  home  in  the  country  with  numerous 
outbuildings  grouped  closely  about  it. 


12  FR^D^RIC   MISTRAL 

"  The  young  girl  replied,  '  I  am  the  daughter 
of  Etienne  Poulinet,  Maire  of  Maillane.  My 
name  is  Delaide.' 

"*What!  the  daughter  of  the  Maire  of 
Maillane  gleaning ! ' 

" '  Maitre,'  she  replied,  '  our  family  is  large, 
six  girls  and  two  boys,  and  although  our  father 
is  pretty  well  to  do,  as  you  know,  when  we  ask 
him  for  money  to  dress  with,  he  answers,  "  Girls, 
if  you  want  finery,  earn  it !  "  And  that  is  why 
I  came  to  glean.' 

"Six  months  after  this  meeting,  which  re- 
minds one  of  the  ancient  scene  of  Ruth  and 
Boaz,  Maitre  Francois  asked  Maitre  Poulinet 
for  the  hand  of  Delaide,  and  I  was  born  of 
that  marriage." 

His  father's  lands  were  extensive,  and  a  great 
number  of  men  were  required  to  work  them. 
The  poem,  Mireio^  is  filled  with  pictures  of  the 
sort  of  life  led  in  the  country  of  Maillane.  Of 
his  father  he  says  that  he  towered  above  them 
all,  in  stature,  in  wisdom,  and  in  nobleness  of 
bearing.  He  was  a  handsome  old  man,  digni- 
fied in  language,  firm  in  command,  kind  to  the 
poor  about  him,  austere  with  himself  alone. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  the  poet  to-day.     He 


INTRODUCTION  13 

is  a  strikingly  handsome  man,  vigorous  and 
active,  exceedingly  gracious  and  simple  in 
manner.  His  utter  lack  of  affectation  is  the 
more  remarkable,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he 
has  been  for  years  an  object  of  adulation,  and 
lives  in  constant  and  close  contact  with  a  popu- 
lation of  peasants. 

His  schooling  began  at  the  age  of  nine,  but 
the  boy  played  truant  so  frequently  that  he 
was  sent  to  boarding-school  in  Avignon.  Here 
he  had  a  sad  time  of  it,  and  seems  especially  to 
have  felt  the  difference  of  language.  Teachers 
and  pupils  alike  made  fun  of  his  patois,  for 
which  he  had  a  strong  attachment,  because  of 
the  charm  of  the  songs  his  mother  sung  to 
him.  Later  he  studied  well,  however,  and 
became  filled  with  a  love  of  Virgil  and  Homer. 
In  them  he  found  pictures  of  life  that  recalled 
vividly  the  labors,  the  ways,  and  the  ideas  of 
the  Maillanais.  At  this  time,  too,  he  attempted 
a  translation,  in  Proven  9al,  of  the  first  eclogue 
of  Virgil,  and  confided  his  efforts  to  a  school- 
mate, Anselme  Mathieu,  who  became  his  life- 
long friend  and  one  of  the  most  active  among 
the  Felibres. 

It  was  at  this  school,  in  1845,  that  he  formed 


14  FRfeDfiRIC  MISTRAJ. 

his  friendship  with  Roumanille,  who  had  come 
there  as  a  teacher.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  the  revival  of  the  Provencal  language 
grew  out  of  this  meeting.  Roumanille  had 
already  written  his  poems,  Li  Margarideto  (The 
Daisies).  "Scarcely  had  he  shown  me,"  says 
Mistral,  "in  their  spring-time  freshness,  these 
lovely  field-flowers,  when  a  thrill  ran  through 
my  being  and  I  exclaimed,  'This  is  the  dawn 
my  soul  awaited  to  awaken  to  the  light ! ' " 
Mistral  had  read  some  Provengal,  but  at  that 
time  the  dialect  was  employed  merely  in  deri- 
sion ;  the  writers  used  the  speech  itself  as  the 
chief  comic  element  in  their  productions.  The 
poems  of  Jasmin  were  as  yet  unknown  to  him. 
Roumanille  was  the  first  in  the  Rhone  country 
to  sing  the  poetry  of  the  heart.  Master  and 
pupil  became  firm  friends  and  worked  together 
for  years  to  raise  the  home-speech  to  the  dignity 
of  a  literary  language. 

At  seventeen  Mistral  returned  home,  and 
began  a  poem  in  four  cantos,  that  he  has  never 
published ;  though  portions  of  it  are  among  the 
poems  of  Lis  Isclo  d'Or  and  in  the  notes  of 
Mireio.  This  poem  is  called  Li  Meissoun  (Har- 
vest).    His  family,  seeing  his  intellectual  supe- 


INTRODUCTION  16 

riority,  sent  him  to  Aix  to  study  law.  Here 
he  again  met  Mathieu,  and  they  made  up  for 
the  aridity  of  the  Civil  Code  by  devoting 
themselves  to  poetry  in  Provengal. 

In  1851  the  young  man  returned  to  the  wa«, 
a  licenciS  en  droits  and  his  father  said  to  him : 
"  Now,  my  dear  son,  I  have  done  my  duty ;  you 
know  more  than  ever  I  learned.  Choose  your 
career;  I  leave  you  free."  And  the  poet  tells 
us  he  threw  his  lawyer's  gown  to  the  winds  and 
gave  himself  up  to  the  contemplation  of  what  he 
so  loved,  —  the  splendor  of  his  native  Provence. 

Through  Roumanille  he  came  to  know 
Aubanel,  Croustillat,  and  others.  They  met 
at  Avignon,  full  of  youthful  enthusiasm,  and 
during  this  period  Mistral,  encouraged  by  his 
friends,  worked  upon  his  greatest  poem,  Mireio. 
In  1854,  on  the  21st  of  May,  the  Felibrige  was 
founded  by  the  seven  poets,  —  Joseph  Rouma- 
nille, Paul  Giera,  Theodore  Aubanel,  Eugene 
Garcin,  Anselme  Mathieu,  Frederic  Mistral, 
Alphonse  Tavan.  In  1868,  Garcin  published 
a  violent  attack  upon  the  Felibres,  accusing 
them,  in  the  strongest  language,  of  seeking  to 
bring  about  a  political  separation  of  southern 
France  from   the  rest   of  the   country.     This 


16  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

apostasy  was  a  cause  of  great  grief  to  the 
others,  and  Garcin's  name  was  stricken  from 
the  official  list  of  the  founders  of  the  Felibrige, 
and  replaced  by  that  of  Jean  Brunet.  Mistral, 
in  the  sixth  canto  of  Mireio,  addresses  in  elo- 
quent verse  his  comrades  in  the  Provengal 
Pleiade,  and  there  we  still  find  the  name  of 
Garcin. 

Tu'  nfin,  de  quau  un  vent  de  flamo 
Ventoulo,  emporto  e  fouito  I'amo 
Garcin,  o  fieu  ardent  ddu  manescau  d' Alen  I 

(And  finally,  thou  whose  soul  is  stirred  and  swept  and 
whipped  by  a  wind  of  flame,  Garcin,  ardent  son  of  the 
smith  of  Alleins.) 

This  attack  upon  the  Felibrige  was  the  first 
of  the  kind  ever  made.  Many  years  later,  Gar- 
cin became  reconciled  to  his  former  friends  and 
in  1897  he  was  vice-president  of  the  Felibrige 
de  Paris. 

The  number  seven  and  the  task  undertaken 
by  these  poets  and  literary  reformers  remind  us 
instantly  of  the  Pleiade,  whose  work  in  the 
sixteenth  century  in  attempting  to  perfect  the 
French  language  was  of  a  very  similar  char- 
acter.    It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  seven 


INTRODUCTION  17 

poets  who  inaugurated  their  work  at  the  Cha- 
teau of  Font-Segugne,  had  no  thought  of  imi- 
tating the  Pleiade  either  in  the  choice  of  the 
number  seven  or  in  the  reformation  they  were 
about  to  undertake. 

They  began  their  propaganda  by  founding  an 
annual  publication  called  the  Armaria  Prouven- 
gau^  which  has  appeared  regularly  since  1855,  and 
many  of  their  writings  were  first  printed  in 
this  official  magazine.  Of  the  seven,  Aubanel 
alone  besides  Mistral  has  attained  celebrity  as 
a  poet,  and  these  two  with  Roumanille  have 
been  usually  associated  in  the  minds  of  all 
who  have  followed  the  movement  with  inter- 
est as  its  three  leaders. 

Mistral  completed  Mireio  in  1859.  The  poem 
was  presented  by  Adolphe  Dumas  and  Jean 
Reboul  to  Lamartine,  who  devoted  to  it  one 
of  the  "  Entretiens "  of  his  Cours  familier  de 
littSrature.  This  article  of  Lamartine,  and  his 
personal  efforts  on  behalf  of  Mistral,  contrib- 
uted greatly  to  the  success  of  the  poem.  Lam- 
artine wrote  among  other  things  :  "  A  great 
epic  poet  is  born  !  A  true  Homeric  poet  in 
our  own  time  ;  a  poet,  born  like  the  men  of 
Deucalion,  from  a  stone  on  the  Crau,  a  primi- 

0 


18  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

tive  poet  in  our  decadent  age  ;  a  Greek  poet  at 
Avignon  ;  a  poet  who  has  created  a  language 
out  of  a  dialect,  as  Petrarch  created  Italian  ; 
one  who,  out  of  a  vulgar  patois^  has  made  a 
language  full  of  imagery  and  harmony  delight- 
ing the  imagination  and  the  ear.  .  .  .  We 
might  say  that,  during  the  night,  an  island 
of  the  Archipelago,  a  floating  Delos,  has 
parted  from  its  group  of  Greek  or  Ionian 
islands  and  come  silently  to  join  the  mainland 
of  sweet-scented  Provence,  bringing  along  one 
of  the  divine  singers  of  the  family  of  the  Mele- 
sigenes." 

Mistral  went  to  Paris,  where  for  a  time  he  was 
the  lion  of  the  literary  world.  The  French 
Academy  crowned  his  poem,  and  Gounod  com- 
posed the  opera  Mireille,  which  was  performed 
for  the  first  time  in  1864,  in  Paris. 

The  poet  did  not  remain  long  in  the  capital. 
He  doubtless  realized  that  he  was  not  destined 
to  join  the  galaxy  of  Parisian  writers,  and  it  is 
certain  that  if  he  had  remained  there  his  life 
and  his  influence  would  have  been  utterly  dif- 
ferent. He  returned  home  and  immediately 
set  to  work  upon  a  second  epic  ;  in  another 
seven  years  he  completed  Calendau,  published 


INTRODUCTION  19 

in  Avignon  in  1866.  The  success  of  this  poem 
was  decidedly  less  than  that  of  Miriio. 

During  these  years  he  published  many  of  the 
shorter  poems  that  appeared  in  one  volume  in 
1875,  under  the  title  of  Lis  Isclo  d'Or  (The 
Golden  Islands).  Meanwhile  the  idea  of  the 
Felibrige  made  great  progress.  The  language 
of  the  Felibres  had  now  a  fixed  orthography 
and  definite  grammatical  form.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  master-work  had  given  a  wonderful 
impulse.  The  exuberance  of  the  southern  tem- 
perament responded  quickly  to  the  call  for  a 
manifestation  of  patriotic  enthusiasm.  The 
Catalan  poets  joined  their  brothers  beyond  the 
Pyrenees.  The  Floral  games  were  founded. 
The  Felibrige  passed  westward  beyond  the 
Rhone  and  found  adherents  in  all  south  France. 
The  centenary  of  Petrarch  celebrated  at  Avi- 
gnon in  1874  tended  to  emphasize  the  impor- 
tance and  the  glory  of  the  new  literature. 

The  definite  organization  of  the  Felibrige  into 
a  great  society  with  its  hierarchy  of  officers  took 
place  in  1876,  with  Mistral  as  CapouliS  (Chief 
or  President).  In  this  same  year  also  the  poet 
married  Mdlle.  Marie  Riviere  of  Dijon,  and  this 
lady,  who  was  named  first  Queen  of  the  Felibrige 


aO  FRlfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

by  Albert  de  Quintana  of  Catalonia,  the  poet- 
laureate  of  the  year  1878  at  the  great  Floral 
Games  held  in  Montpellier,  has  become  at  heart 
and  in  speech  a  Provengale. 

A  third  poem,  Nerto^  appeared  in  1884,  and 
showed  the  poet  in  a  new  light ;  his  admirers 
now  compared  him  to  Ariosto.  This  same  year 
he  made  a  second  journey  to  Paris,  and  was 
again  the  lion  of  the  hour.  The  SociStS  de  la 
Cigale,  which  had  been  founded  in  1876,  as  a 
Paris  branch  of  the  Felibrige,  and  which  later 
became  the  SoeiitS  des  FSlibres  de  Paris,  organ- 
ized banquets  and  festivities  in  his  honor,  and 
celebrated  the  Floral  Games  at  Sceaux  to  com- 
memorate the  four  hundredth  anniversary  of  the 
day  when  Provence  became  united,  of  her  own 
free-will,  with  France.  Mistral  was  received 
with  distinction  by  President  Grevy  and  by 
the  Count  of  Paris,  and  his  numerous  Parisian 
friends  vied  in  bidding  him  welcome  to  the  capi- 
tal. His  new  poem  was  crowned  by  the  French 
Academy,  receiving  the  Prix  Vitet,  the  presen- 
tation address  being  delivered  by  Legouve. 
Four  years  later,  Lou  Tresor  d6u  Felibrige,  a 
great  dictionary  of  all  the  dialects  of  the  langue 
d'oc,  was  completed,  and  in  1890  appeared  his 


INTRODUCTION  21 

only  dramatic  work,  La  Reino  Jano  (Queen 
Joanna).  In  1897  he  produced  his  last  long 
poem,  epic  in  form,  Lou  Pouemo  d6u  Rose  (the 
Poem  of  the  Rhone).  At  present  he  is  engaged 
upon  his  Memoirs. 

Aside  from  his  rare  journeys  to  Paris,  a  visit 
to  Switzerland,  and  another  to  Italy,  Mistral  has 
rarely  gone  beyond  the  borders  of  his  beloved 
region.  He  is  still  living  quietly  in  the  little 
village  of  Maillane,  in  a  simple  but  beautiful 
home,  surrounded  with  works  of  art  inspired 
by  the  Felibrean  movement.  He  has  survived 
many  of  his  distinguished  friends.  Rouma- 
nille,  Mathieu,  Aubanel,  Daudet,  and  Paul 
Arene  have  all  passed  away  ;  a  new  genera- 
tion is  about  him.  But  his  activity  knows  no 
rest.  The  Felibrean  festivities  continue,  the 
numerous  publications  in  the  Proven9al  tongue 
still  have  in  him  a  constant  contributor.  In 
1899  the  Museon  Arlaten  (the  Museum  of 
Aries)  was  inaugurated,  and  is  another  proof 
of  the  constant  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
poet.  He  is  to-day  the  greatest  man  in  the 
south  of  France,  universally  beloved  and  re- 
vered. 

His  life  after  all  has  been  less  a  literary  life 


22  FRiJDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

than  one  of  direct  and  unceasing  personal 
action  upon  the  population  about  him.  The 
resurrection  of  the  language,  the  publication 
of  poeras,  magazines,  and  newspapers,  are  only 
part  of  a  programme  tending  to  raise  the  people 
of  the  south  to  a  conception  of  their  individu- 
ality as  a  race.  He  has  striven  untiringly  to 
communicate  to  them  his  own  glowing  enthusi- 
asm for  the  past  glories  of  Provence,  to  fire 
them  with  his  dream  of  a  great  rebirth  of  the 
Latin  races,  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  great 
ideal  Latin  union.  Wonderful  is  his  optimism. 
Some  of  the  Felibres  about  him  are  somewhat 
discouraged,  many  of  them  have  never  set  their 
aspirations  as  high  as  he  has  done,  and  some 
look  upon  his  dreams  as  Utopian.  Whatever 
be  the  future  of  the  movement  he  has  founded. 
Mistral's  life  in  its  simple  oneness,  and  in  its 
astonishing  success,  is  indeed  most  remarkable. 
Provence,  the  land  that  first  gave  the  world  a 
literature  after  the  decay  of  the  classic  tongues, 
has  awakened  again  under  his  magic  touch  to 
an  active  mental  life.  A  second  literature  is 
in  active  being  on  the  soil  of  France,  a  second 
literary  language  is  there  a  reality.  Whether 
permanent  or  evanescent,  this  glorification  of 


INTRODUCTION  28 

poetry,  this  ardent  love  of  the  beautiful  and 
the  ideal,  is  a  noble  and  inspiring  spectacle 
amid  the  turmoil  and  strife  of  this  age  of  mate- 
rial progress. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FELIBRIGE 

The  history  of  the  Felibrige,  from  its  begin- 
ning, in  1854,  down  to  the  year  1896,  has  been 
admirably  written  by  G.  Jourdanne.^  The 
work  is  quite  exhaustive,  containing,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  excellently  written  narrative,  an 
engraving  of  the  famous  cup,  portraits  of  all 
the  most  noted  Felibres,  a  series  of  elaborately 
written  notes  that  discuss  or  set  forth  many 
questions  relating  to  the  general  theme,  a  very 
large  bibliography  of  the  subject,  comprising 
long  lists  of  works  that  have  been  written  in 
the  dialect  or  that  have  appeared  in  France  and 
in  other  countries  concerning  the  Felibres,  a 
copy  of  the  constitution  of  the  society  and 
of  various  statutes  relating  to  it.     It  not  only 

1  Histoire  du  Felibrige,  par  G.  Jourdanne,  Librairie  Bou- 
manille,  Avignon,  1897. 

24 


THE  F^LIBRIGE  26 

contains  all  the  material  that  is  necessary  for 
the  study  of  the  Felibrige,  but  it  is  worthy  of 
the  highest  praise  for  the  spirit  in  which  it  is 
written.  It  is  an  honest  attempt  to  explain 
the  Felibrige,  and  to  present  fairly  and  fully  all 
the  problems  that  so  remarkable  a  movement  has 
created.  A  perusal  of  the  book  makes  it  evi- 
dent that  the  author  believes  in  future  political 
consequences,  and  while  well  aware  that  it  is 
unsafe  to  prophesy,  he  has  a  chapter  on  the 
future  of  the  movement. 

His  history  endeavors  to  show  that  the  Feli- 
brean  renaissance  was  not  a  spontaneous  spring- 
ing into  existence.  On  the  purely  literary  side, 
however,  it  certainly  bears  the  character  of  a 
creation;  as  writers,  the  Provengal  poets  may 
scarcely  be  said  to  continue  any  preceding  school 
or  to  be  closely  linked  with  any  literary  past. 
In  its  inception  it  was  a  mere  attempt  to  write 
pleasing,  popular  verse  of  a  better  kind  in  the 
dialect  of  the  fireside.  But  the  movement 
developed  rapidly  into  the  ambition  to  endow 
the  whole  region  with  a  real  literature,  to 
awaken  a  consciousness  of  race  in  the  men  of 
the  south;  these  aims  have  been  realized,  and  a 
change  has  come  over  the  life  of  Provence  and 


26  FRfeD]fcRIC   MISTRAL 

the  land  of  the  langue  d'oc  in  general.  The 
author  believes  and  adduces  evidences  to  show 
that  all  this  could  not  have  come  about  had  the 
seed  not  fallen  upon  a  soil  that  was  ready. 

The  Felibrige  dates  from  the  year  1854,  but 
the  idea  that  lies  at  the  bottom  of  it  must  be 
traced  back  to  the  determination  of  Roumanille 
to  write  in  Provencal  rather  than  in  French. 
He  produced  his  Margarideto  in  1847  and  the 
Sounjarello  in  1851.  In  collaboration  with 
Mistral  and  Anselme  Mathieu,  he  edited  a  col- 
lection of  poems  by  living  writers  under  the 
title  lA  Prouvenpalo.  During  these  years,  too, 
there  were  meetings  of  Provengal  writers  for 
the  purpose  of  discussing  questions  of  grammar 
and  spelling.  These  meetings,  including  even 
the  historic  one  of  May  21,  1854,  were,  how- 
ever, really  little  more  than  friendly,  social 
gatherings,  where  a  number  of  enthusiastic 
friends  sang  songs  and  made  merry.  They  had 
none  of  the  solemnity  of  a  conclave,  or  the 
dignity  of  literary  assemblies.  There  was  no 
formal  organization.  Those  writers  who  were 
zealously  interested  in  the  rehabilitation  of  the 
Provengal  speech  and  connected  themselves 
with  Mistral   and  his   friends  were  the   Feli- 


THE  FJfcLIBRIGE  27 

bres.  Not  until  1876  was  there  a  Felibrige 
with  a  formal  constitution  and  an  elaborate 
organization. 

The  word  FSlibre  was  furnished  by  Mistral, 
who  had  come  upon  it  in  an  old  hymn  wherein 
occurs  the  expression  that  the  Virgin  met  Jesus 
in  the  temple  among  "the  seven  Felibres  of 
the  law."  The  origin  and  etymology  of  this 
word  have  given  rise  to  various  explanations. 
The  Greek  philabros,  lover  of  the  beautiful; 
philebraios,  lover  of  Hebrew,  hence,  among  the 
Jews,  teacher;  felibris,  nursling,  according  to 
Ducange;  the  Irish  Jilea,  bard,  and  ber,  chief, 
have  been  proposed.  Jeanroy  (in  Romania, 
XIII,  p.  463)  offers  the  etymology  :  Spanish 
feligres,  filii  Ucclesice,  sons  of  the  church,  parish- 
ioners.    None  of  these  is  certain. 

Seven  poets  were  present  at  this  first  meet- 
ing, and  as  the  day  happened  to  be  that  of  St. 
Estelle,  the  emblem  of  a  seven-pointed  star 
was  adopted.  Very  fond  of  the  number  seven 
are  these  Felibres;  they  tell  you  of  the  seven 
chief  churches  of  Avignon,  its  seven  gates, 
seven  colleges,  seven  hospitals,  seven  popes 
who  were  there  seventy  years;  the  word  FSli- 
bre has  seven  letters,  so  has   Mistral's  name, 


28  FRfeDlfeRIC   MISTRAL 

and   he  spent   seven  years  in  writing  each  of 
his  epics. 

The  task  that  lay  before  these  poets  was 
twofold  :  they  had  not  only  to  prune  and 
purify  their  dialect  and  produce  verses,  they 
had  also  to  find  readers,  to  create  a  public,  to 
begin  a  propaganda.  The  first  means  adopted 
was  the  publication  of  the  Armana  prouvengau^ 
already  referred  to.  In  1855,  five  hundred 
copies  were  issued,  in  1894,  twelve  thousand. 
For  four  years  this  magazine  was  destined  for 
Provence  alone  ;  in  1860,  after  the  appearance 
of  Mireio,  it  was  addressed  to  all  the  dwell- 
ers in  southern  France.  The  great  success  of 
Mireio  began  a  new  period  in  the  history  of  the 
Felibrige.  Mistral  himself  and  the  poets  about 
him  now  took  an  entirely  new  view  of  their 
mission.  The  uplifting  of  the  people,  the  crea- 
tion of  a  literature  that  should  be  admired 
abroad  as  well  as  at  home,  the  complete  ex- 
pression of  the  life  of  Provence,  in  all  its 
aspects,  past  and  present,  escape  from  the  im- 
placable centralization  that  tends  to  destroy 
all  initiative  and  originality  —  such  were  the 
higher  aims  toward  which  they  now  bent  their 
efforts.     The  attention  of  Paris  was  turned  in 


THE  F^LIBRIGE  29 

their  direction.  Jasmin  had  already  shown  the 
Parisians  that  real  poetry  of  a  high  order  could 
be  written  in  a  patois.  Lamartine  and  Ville- 
main  welcomed  the  new  literature  most  cor- 
dially, and  the  latter  declared  that  "  France  is 
rich  enough  to  have  two  literatures." 

But  the  student  of  this  history  must  not  lose 
sight  of  the  fact  that  the  Provencal  poets  are 
not  first  of  all  litterateurs  ;  they  are  not  men 
devoting  themselves  to  literature  for  a  liveli- 
hood, or  even  primarily  for  fame.  They  are 
patriots  before  they  are  poets.  The  choice  of 
subjects  and  the  intense  love  of  their  native 
land  that  breathes  through  all  their  writings, 
are  ample  proof  of  this.  They  meet  to  sing 
songs  and  to  speak  ;  it  is  always  of  Provence 
that  they  sing  and  speak.  Almost  all  of  them 
are  men  who  ply  some  trade,  hardly  one  lives 
by  his  pen  alone.  This  fact  gives  a  very  spe- 
cial character  to  their  whole  production.  The 
Felibrean  movement  is  more  than  an  astonish- 
ing literary  phenomenon. 

The  idea  from  this  time  on  acquired  more 
and  more  adherents.  Scores  of  writers  ap- 
peared, and  volumes  whose  titles  filled  many 
pages  swelled  the  output  of  Provencal  verse. 


80  FRfeDfiRIC  MISTRAL 

These  new  aims  were  due  to  the  success  of 
Mireio  ;  but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Mis- 
tral himself,  in  that  poem  and  in  the  shorter 
poems  of  the  same  period,  gave  distinct  expres- 
sion to  the  new  order  of  ideas,  so  that  we  are 
constantly  led  back  to  him,  in  all  our  study  of 
the  matter,  as  the  creator,  the  continuer,  and 
the  ever  present  inspirer  of  the  Felibrige. 
Whatever  it  is,  it  is  through  him  primarily. 
Roumanille  must  be  classed  as  one  of  those 
precursors  who  are  unconscious  of  what  they 
do.  To  him  the  Felibres  owe  two  things: 
first  of  all,  the  idea  of  writing  in  the  dialect 
works  of  literary  merit ;  and,  secondly,  the  dis- 
covery of  Frederic  Mistral. 

Among  these  new  ideas,  one  that  dominates 
henceforth  in  the  story  of  the  Felibrige,  is  the 
idea  of  race.  Mistral  is  well  aware  that  there 
is  no  Latin  race,  in  the  sense  of  blood  relation- 
ship, of  physical  descent ;  he  knows  that  the 
so-called  Latin  race  has,  for  the  base  of  its  unity, 
a  common  history,  a  common  tradition,  a  com- 
mon religion,  a  common  language. 

But  he  believes  that  there  is  a  race  mSri- 
dionale  that  has  been  developed  into  a  kind 
of  unity  out  of  the  various  elements  that  com- 


THE  FfeLIBRIGE  31 

pose  it,  through  their  being  mingled  together, 
and  accumulating  during  many  centuries  com- 
mon memories,  ideas,  customs,  and  interests. 
So  Mistral  has  devoted  himself  to  promoting 
knowledge  of  its  history,  traditions,  language, 
and  religion.  As  the  Felibrige  grew,  and  as 
Mistral  felt  his  power  as  a  poet  grow,  he 
sought  a  larger  public  ;  he  turned  naturally 
to  the  peoples  most  closely  related  to  his  own, 
and  Italy  and  Spain  were  embraced  in  his  sym- 
pathies. The  Felibrige  spread  beyond  the  limits 
of  France  first  into  Spain.  Victor  Balaguer,  ex- 
iled from  his  native  country,  was  received  with 
open  arms  by  the  Provengals.  William  Bona- 
parte-Wyse,  an  Irishman  and  a  grand-nephew 
of  the  first  Napoleon,  while  on  a  journey 
through  Provence,  had  become  converted  to 
the  Felibrean  doctrines,  and  became  an  active 
spirit  among  these  poets  and  orators.  He 
organized  a  festival  in  honor  of  Balaguer,  and 
when,  later,  the  Catalan  poet  was  permitted 
to  return  home,  the  Catalans  sent  the  famous 
cup  to  their  friends  in  Provence.  For  the 
Felibres  this  cup  is  an  emblem  of  the  idea  of 
a  Latin  federation,  and  as  it  passes  from  hand 
to  hand  and  from  lip  to  lip  at  the  Felibrean 


32  FRfeDf:RIC  MISTRAL 

banquets,  the  scene  is  not  unlike  that  wherein 
the  Holy  Graal  passes  about  among  the  Knights 
of  the  Round  Table. ^ 

Celebrations  of  this  kind  have  become  a 
regular  institution  in  southern  France.  Since 
the  day  in  1862  when  the  town  of  Apt  received 
the  Felibres  officially,  organizing  Floral  Games, 
in  which  prizes  were  offered  for  the  best  poems 
in  Provengal,  the  people  have  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  sight  of  these  triumphal  entries  of 
the  poets  into  their  cities.  Reports  of  these 
brilliant  festivities  have  gone  abroad  into  all 
lands.  If  the  love  of  noise  and  show  that  char- 
acterizes the  southern  temperament  has  caused 
these  reunions  to  be  somewhat  unfavorably 
criticised  as  theatrical,  on  the  other  hand  the 
enthusiasm  has  been  genuine,  and  the  results 

1  The  stem  of  the  cup  has  the  form  of  a  palm  tree,  under 
which  two  female  figures,  representing  Catalonia  and  Pro- 
vence, stand  in  a  graceful  embrace.  Below  the  figures  are 
engraved  the  two  following  inscriptions  :  — 

Morta  la  diuhen  qu'es,        Ah  !  se  me  sabien  entfendre  ! 
Mes  jo  la  crech  viva.  Ah !  se  me  voulien  segui ! 

(V.  Balaguer.)  (F.  Mistral.) 

(They  say  she  is  dead,        (Ah,   if  they  could  understand 
but  I   believe  she  me  !    Ah,  if  they  would  follow 

lives.)  me  I) 


THE  Ff:LIBRIGE  33 

real  and  lasting.  The  FSlihrSes^  so  they  are 
called,  have  not  all  taken  place  in  France.  In 
1868,  Mistral,  Roumieux,  Bonaparte-Wyse,  and 
Paul  Meyer  went  to  Barcelona,  where  they 
were  received  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony. 
Men  eminent  in  literary  and  philological  circles 
in  Paris  have  often  accepted  invitations  to  these 
festivities.  In  1876,  a  Felibrean  club,  "La 
Cigale,"  was  founded  in  the  capital ;  its  first 
president  was  Henri  de  Bornier,  author  of  La 
Mile  de  Roland.  Professors  and  students  of 
literature  and  philology  in  France  and  in  other 
countries  began  to  interest  themselves  in  the 
Felibres,  and  the  Felibrige  to-day  counts  among 
its  members  men  of  science  as  well  as  men  of 
letters. 

In  1874  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
the  celebrations,  due  to  the  initiative  of  M. 
de  Berluc-Perussis,  was  held  at  Vaucluse  to 
celebrate  the  fifth  centenary  of  the  death  of 
Petrarch.  At  this  Felihree  the  Italians  first 
became  affiliated  to  the  idea^  and  the  Italian 
ambassador.  Nigra,  the  president  of  the  Accade- 
mia  della  Crusca,  Signor  Conti,  and  Professor 
Minich,  from  the  University  of  Padua,  were  the 
delegates.     The  Institute  of  France  was  repre- 


S4  FR^D^RIC   MISTRAL 

sented  for  the  first  time.  This  celebration  was 
highly  important  and  significant,  and  the  scenes 
of  Petrarch's  inspirations  and  the  memories  of 
the  founder  of  the  Renaissance  must  have  awak- 
ened responsive  echoes  in  the  hearts  of  the  poets 
who  aimed  at  a  second  rebirth  of  poetry  and 
learning  in  the  same  region. 

The  following  year  the  SociSti  des  langues 
romanes  at  Montpellier  offered  prizes  for  philo- 
logical as  well  as  purely  literary  works,  and  for 
the  first  time  other  dialects  than  the  Provengal 
proper  were  admitted  in  the  competitions.  The 
Languedocian,  the  Gascon,  the  Limousin,  the 
Bearnais,  and  the  Catalan  dialects  were  thus 
included.  The  members  of  the  jury  were  men 
of  the  greatest  note,  Gaston  Paris,  Michel  Breal, 
Mila  y  Fontanals,  being  of  their  number. 

Finally,  in  1876,  on  the  21st  of  May,  the 
statutes  of  the  Felibrige  were  adopted.  From 
them  we  quote  the  following  :  — 

"The  Felibrige  is  established  to  bring  to- 
gether and  encourage  all  those  who,  by  their 
works,  preserve  the  language  of  the  land  of  oc, 
as  well  as  the  men  of  science  and  the  artists 
who  study  and  work  in  the  interest  of  this 
country." 


THE  FijLIBRIGE  86 

"Political  and  religious  discussions  are  for- 
bidden in  the  Felibrean  meetings." 

The  organization  is  interesting.  The  Feli- 
bres  are  divided  into  Majoraux  and  Mainteneurs. 
The  former  are  limited  to  fifty  in  number,  and 
form  the  Consistory,  which  elects  its  own  mem- 
bers; new  members  are  received  on  the  feast 
of  St.  Estelle. 

The  Consistory  is  presided  over  by  a  Capou- 
lie,  who  wears  as  the  emblem  of  his  office  a 
seven-pointed  golden  star,  the  other  Majoraux, 
a  golden  grasshopper. 

The  other  Felibres  are  unlimited  in  number. 
Any  seven  Felibres  dwelling  in  the  same  place 
may  ask  the  Maintenance  to  form  them  into 
a  school.  The  schools  administer  their  own 
affairs. 

Every  seven  years  the  Floral  Games  are  held, 
at  which  prizes  are  distributed;  every  year,  on 
the  feast  of  St.  Estelle,  a  general  meeting  of 
the  Felibrige  takes  place.  Each  Maintenance 
must  meet  once  a  year. 

At  the  Floral  Games  he  who  is  crowned  poet- 
laureate  chooses  the  Queen,  and  she  crowns 
him  with  a  wreath  of  olive  leaves. 

To-day  there  are  three  Maintenances  within 


36  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

the  limits  of  French  soil,  Provence,  Languedoc, 
Aquitaine. 

Among  other  facts  that  should  doubtless  be 
reported  here  is,  the  list  of  Capoulies.  They 
have  been  Mistral  (1876-1888),  Roumanille 
(1888-1891),  and  Felix  Gras ;  the  Queens  have 
been  Madame  Mistral,  Mile.  Therese  Rouma- 
nille, Mile.  Marie  Girard,  and  the  Comtesse 
Marie-Therese  de  Chevigne,  who  is  descended 
upon  her  mother's  side  from  Laura  de  Sade, 
generally  believed  to  be  Petrarch's  Laura. 

Since  the  organization  went  into  effect  the 
Felibrige  has  expanded  in  many  ways,  its  influ- 
ence has  continually  grown,  new  questions  have 
arisen.  Among  these  last  have  been  burning 
questions  of  religion  and  politics,  for  although 
discussions  of  them  are  banished  from  Felibrean 
meetings,  opinions  of  the  most  various  kind 
exist  among  the  Felibres,  have  found  expres- 
sion, and  have  well-nigh  resulted  in  difficulties. 
Until  1876  these  questions  slept.  Mistral  is  a 
Catholic,  but  has  managed  to  hold  more  or  less 
aloof  from  political  matters.  Aubanel  was  a 
zealous  Catholic,  and  had  the  title  by  inheritance 
of  Printer  to  his  Holiness.  Roumanille  was  a 
Catholic,  and  an  ardent  Royalist.     When   the 


THE  F^LIBRIGE  37 

Felibrige  came  to  extend  its  limits  over  into 
Languedoc,  the  poet  Auguste  Foures  and  his 
fellows  proclaimed  a  different  doctrine,  and 
called  up  memories  of  the  past  with  a  different 
view.  They  affirmed  their  adherence  to  the 
Renaissance  meridionale,  and  claimed  equal 
rights  for  the  Languedocian  dialect.  They 
asserted,  however,  that  the  true  tradition  was 
republican,  and  protested  vigorously  against 
the  clerical  and  monarchical  parties,  which,  in 
their  opinion,  had  always  been  for  Languedoc  a 
cause  of  disaster,  servitude,  and  misery.  The 
memory  of  the  terrible  crusade  in  the  thirteenth 
century  inspired  fiery  poems  among  them. 
Hatred  of  Simon  de  Montfort  and  of  the  in- 
vaders who  followed  him,  free-thought,  and 
federalism  found  vigorous  expression  in  all 
their  productions.  In  Provence,  too,  there  have 
been  opinions  differing  widely  from  those  of 
the  original  founders,  and  the  third  Capoulie, 
Felix  Gras,  was  a  Protestant.  Of  him  M.  Jour- 
danne  writes  :  — 

"Finally,  in  1891,  after  the  death  of  Rou- 
manille,  the  highest  office  in  the  Felibrige  was 
taken  by  a  man  who  could  rally  about  him  the 
two   elements  that  we  have   seen   manifested, 


88  fr6d6ric  mistral 

sufficiently  Republican  to  satisfy  the  most 
ardent  in  the  extreme  Left,  sufficiently  steady 
not  to  alarm  the  Royalists,  a  great  enough  poet 
to  deserve  without  any  dispute  the  first  place  in 
an  assembly  of  poets." 

He,  like  Mistral,  wrote  epics  in  twelve  cantos. 
His  first  work,  Li  CarhouniS^  has  on  its  title- 
page  three  remarkable  lines :  — 

"  I  love  my  village  more  than  thy  village, 
I  love  my  Provence  more  than  thy  province, 
I  love  France  more  than  all." 

Possibly  no  other  three  lines  could  express  as 
well  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Felibrige. 

Our  subject  being  Mistral  and  not  Felix  Gras, 
a  passing  mention  must  suffice.  One  of  his 
remarkable  works  is  called  Toloza,  and  recounts 
the  crusade  of  the  Albigenses,  and  his  novel, 
The  Reds  of  the  Midi,  first  published  in  New 
York  in  the  English  translation  of  Mrs.  Thomas 
A.  Janvier,  is  probably  the  most  remarkable 
prose  work  that  has  been  written  in  Provengal.^ 
Only  the  future  can  tell  whether  the  Provengal 
will  pass  through  a  prose  cycle  after  its  poetic 
cycle,   in  the   manner   of   all   literatures.     To 

1  In  1899,  F^lix  Gras  published  a  novel  called  The  White 
Terror.     His  death  occurred  early  in  1901. 


THE  FfeLIBRIGE  39 

many  serious  thinkers  the  attempt  to  create 
a  complete  literature  seems  of  very  doubtful 
success. 

The  problems,  then,  which  confront  the  Feli- 
bres  are  numerous.  Can  they,  with  any  assur- 
ance of  permanence,  maintain  two  literary 
languages  in  the  same  region?  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  state,  of  course,  that  no  one  dreams 
of  supplanting  the  French  language  anywhere 
on  French  soil.  What  attitude  shall  they 
assume  toward  the  "  patoisants,"  that  is,  those 
who  insist  on  using  the  local  dialect,  and  refuse 
to  conform  to  the  usage  of  the  Felibres  ?  Is  it 
not  useless,  after  all,  to  hope  for  a  more  perfect 
unification  of  the  dialects  of  the  langue  cToc^ 
and,  if  unification  is  the  aim,  does  not  logical  rea- 
soning lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  French 
language  already  exists,  perfectly  unified,  and 
absolutely  necessary?  In  the  matter  of  poli- 
tics, the  most  serious  questions  may  arise  if  the 
desires  of  some  find  more  general  favor.  Shall 
the  Felibres  aim  at  local  self-government,  at  a 
confederation  something  like  that  of  the  Swiss 
cantons  ?  Shall  they  advocate  the  idea  of  inde- 
pendent universities  ? 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  none  of  these  problems 


40  frI}d6ric  mistral 

are  solved,  and  they  will  only  be  solved  by  the 
natural  march  of  events.  The  attitude  of  the 
leaders  toward  all  these  differing  views  has  be- 
come one  of  easy  toleration.  If  the  language  of 
the  Felibres  tends  already  to  dominate  the  other 
dialects,  if  its  influence  is  already  plainly  felt 
far  beyond  Provence  itself,  this  is  due  to  the 
sheer  superiority  of  their  literary  work.  If 
their  literature  had  the  conventional  character 
of  that  of  the  Troubadours,  if  it  were  addressed 
exclusively  to  a  certain  elite,  then  their  lan- 
guage might  have  been  adopted  by  the  poets  of 
other  regions,  just  as  in  the  days  of  the  Trou- 
badours the  masters  of  the  art  of  "  trobar " 
preferred  to  use  the  Limousin  dialect.  But  the 
popular  character  of  the  movement  has  pre- 
vented this.  It  has  preached  the  love  of  the 
village,  and  each  locality,  as  fast  as  the  Feli- 
brean  idea  gained  ground,  has  shown  greater 
affection  for  its  own  dialect. 

Mistral's  work  has  often  been  compared  to 
Dante's.  But  Dante  did  not  impose  his  lan- 
guage upon  Italy  by  the  sole  superiority  of  his 
great  poem.  All  sorts  of  events,  political  and 
social,  contributed  to  the  result,  and  there  is 
little  reason  to  expect  the  same  future  for  the 


THE  F^LIBRIGE  41 

work  of  Mistral.  This  comparison  is  made 
from  the  linguistic  point  of  view;  it  is  not 
likely  that  any  one  will  compare  the  two  as 
poets.  At  most,  it  may  be  said  that  if  Dante 
gave  expression  to  the  whole  spirit  of  his  age, 
Mistral  has  given  complete  expression  to  the 
spirit  of  his  little  patrie.  Should  the  trend  of 
events  lead  to  a  further  unification  of  the  dia- 
lects of  southern  France,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  Felibrean  dialect  has  by  far  the  greatest 
chance  of  success. 

The  people  of  Provence  owe  a  great  debt  to 
the  Felibres,  who  have  endowed  them  with  a 
literature  that  comes  closer  to  their  sympathies 
than  the  classic  literature  of  France  can  ever 
come ;  they  have  been  raised  in  their  own 
esteem,  and  there  has  been  undoubtedly  a  great 
awakening  in  their  mental  life.  The  Felibrige 
has  given  expression  to  all  that  is  noblest  and 
best  in  the  race,  and  has  invariably  led  onward 
and  upward.  Its  mission  has  been  one  that 
commands  respect  and  admiration,  and  the  Feli- 
bres to-day  are  in  a  position  to  point  with  pride 
to  the  great  work  accomplished  among  their 
people.     Arsene  Darmesteter  has  well  said  :  — 

"  A  nation   needs  poetry  ;    it  lives  not  by 


42  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

bread  alone,  but  in  the  ideal  as  well.  Religious 
beliefs  are  weakening ;  and  if  the  sense  of  poetic 
ideals  dies  along  with  the  religious  sentiment, 
there  will  remain  nothing  among  the  lower 
classes  but  material  and  brutal  instincts. 

"  Whether  the  Felibres  were  conscious  of  this 
danger,  or  met  this  popular  need  instinctively, 
I  cannot  say.  At  any  rate,  their  work  is  a 
good  one  and  a  wholesome  one.  There  still 
circulates,  down  to  the  lowest  stratum  of  the 
people,  a  stream  of  poetry,  often  obscure,  until 
now  looked  upon  with  disdain  by  all  except 
scholars.  I  mean  folklore,  beliefs,  traditions, 
legends,  and  popular  tales.  Before  this  source 
of  poetry  could  disappear  completely,  the  Feli- 
bres had  the  happy  idea  of  taking  it  up,  giving 
it  a  new  literary  form,  thus  giving  back  to  the 
people,  clothed  in  the  brilliant  colors  of  poetry, 
the  creation  of  the  people  themselves." 

And  again  :  "  As  for  this  general  renovation 
of  popular  poetry,  I  would  give  it  no  other 
name  than  that  of  the  Felibrige.  To  the  Feli- 
bres is  due  the  honor  of  the  movement  ;  it  is 
their  ardor  and  their  faith  that  have  developed 
and  strengthened  it." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MODERN  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE 

The  language  of  the  Felibres  is  based  upon 
the  dialect  spoken  in  the  plain  of  Maillane,  in 
and  about  the  town  of  Saint-Remy.  This  dia- 
lect is  one  of  the  numerous  divisions  of  the 
langue  d'oc^  which  Mistral  claims  is  spoken  by 
nearly  twelve  millions  of  people.  The  literary 
history  of  these  patois  has  been  written  by  B. 
Noulet,  and  shows  that  at  the  close  of  the  ter- 
rible struggles  of  the  Albigenses  the  language 
seemed  dead.  In  1324  seven  poets  attempted 
to  found  at  Toulouse  the  competitions  of  the 
Grai  Savoir,  and  so  to  revive  the  ancient  poetry 
and  the  ancient  language.  Their  attempt  failed. 
There  was  literary  production  of  varying  degree 
of  merit  throughout  two  or  three  centuries ; 
but  until  the  time  of  Jasmin  no  writer  attracted 
any  attention  beyond  his  immediate  vicinity; 
and  it  is  significant  that  the  Felibres  them- 
selves were  long  in  ignorance  of  Jasmin.  It  is 
43 


44  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

then  not  difficult  to  demonstrate  that  the  Feli- 
brige  revival  bears  more  the  character  of  a 
creation  than  of  an  evolution.  It  is  not  at  all 
an  evolution  of  the  literature  of  the  Trouba- 
dours ;  it  is  in  no  way  like  it.  The  language 
of  the  Felibres  is  not  even  the  descendant  of 
the  special  dialect  that  dominated  as  a  literary- 
language  in  the  days  of  the  Troubadours;  for 
it  was  the  speech  of  Limousin  that  formed  the 
basis  of  that  language,  and  only  two  of  the 
greater  poets  among  the  Troubadours,  Raimond 
de  Vaqueiras  and  Fouquet  de  Marseille,  were 
natives  of  Provence  proper. 

The  dialect  of  Saint-Remy  is  simply  one  of 
countless  ramifications  of  the  dialects  descended 
from  the  Latin.  Mistral  and  his  associates  have 
made  their  literary  language  out  of  this  dialect 
as  they  found  it,  and  not  out  of  the  language  of 
the  Troubadours.  They  have  regularized  the 
spelling,  and  have  deliberately  eliminated  as  far 
as  possible  words  and  forms  that  appeared  to 
them  to  be  due  to  French  influence,  substituting 
older  and  more  genuine  forms — forms  that  ap- 
peared more  in  accord  with  the  genius  of  the 
langue  d'oc  as  contrasted  with  the  langue  d'oil. 
Thus,  gloria  istori^  paire,  replace  gloaro,  istouero^ 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   45 

j3ero,  which  are  often  heard  among  the  people. 
This  was  the  first  step.  The  second  step  taken 
arose  from  the  necessity  of  making  this  speech 
of  the  illiterate  capable  of  elevated  expression. 
Mistral  claims  to  have  used  no  word  unknown 
to  the  people  or  unintelligible  to  them,  with  the 
exception  that  he  has  used  freely  of  the  stock  of 
learned  words  common  to  the  whole  Romance 
family  of  languages.  These  words,  too,  he 
transforms  more  or  less,  keeping  them  in  har- 
mony with  the  forms  peculiar  to  the  langue 
d'oe.  Hence,  it  is  true  that  the  language  of  the 
Felibres  is  a  conventional,  literary  language, 
that  does  not  represent  exactly  the  speech  of 
any  section  of  France,  and  is  related  to  the 
popular  speech  more  or  less  as  any  official  lan- 
guage is  to  the  dialects  that  underlie  it.  As  the 
Felibres  themselves  have  received  all  their  in- 
struction and  literary  culture  in  the  French  lan- 
guage, they  use  it  among  themselves,  and  their 
prose  especially  shows  the  influence  of  the 
French  to  the  extent  that  it  may  be  said  that 
the  Provengal  sentence,  in  prose,  appears  to  be 
a  word-for-word  translation  of  an  underlying 
French  sentence. 

Phonetically,  the  dialect  offers  certain  marked 


46  FRfeDfiRIC   MISTRAL 

differences  when  contrasted  with  French.  First 
of  all  is  the  forceful  utterance  of  the  stressed 
syllable  ;  the  Provencal  has  post-tonic  syllables, 
unlike  the  sister-speech.  Here  it  may  be  said 
to  occupy  a  sort  of  middle  position  between 
Italian  and  Spanish  on  the  one  hand,  and  French 
on  the  other  ;  for  in  the  former  languages  the 
accent  is  found  in  all  parts  of  the  word,  in 
French  practically  only  upon  the  final,  and  then 
it  is  generally  weak,  so  that  the  notion  of  a 
stress  is  almost  lost.  The  stress  in  Provengal 
is  placed  upon  one  of  the  last  two  syllables 
only,  and  only  three  vowels,  e,  i,  o,  may  follow 
the  tonic  syllable.  The  language,  therefore, 
has  a  cadence  that  affects  the  ear  differently 
from  the  French,  and  that  resembles  more  that 
of  the  Italian  or  Spanish  languages. 

The  nasal  vowels  are  again  unlike  those  of 
the  French  language.  The  vowel  affected  by 
the  following  nasal  consonant  preserves  its  own 
quality  of  sound,  and  the  consonant  is  pro- 
nounced ;  at  the  end  of  a  word  both  m  and  n 
are  pronounced  as  w^  in  the  English  word  ring. 
The  Provengal  utterance  of  matin,  terns,  is 
therefore  quite  unlike  that  of  the  French  matin, 
temps.      This  change  of  the  nasal  consonants 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   47 

into  the  ng  sound  whenever  they  become  final 
occurs  also  in  the  dialects  of  northern  Italy  and 
northern  Spain.  This  pronunciation  of  the 
nasal  vowels  in  French  is,  as  is  well  known,  an 
important  factor  in  the  famous  "accent  du 
Midi." 

The  oral  vowels  are  in  general  like  the 
French.  It  is  curious  that  the  close  o  is  heard 
only  in  the  infrequent  diphthong  du^  or  as  an 
obscured,  unaccented  final.  This  absence  of  the 
close  0  in  the  modern  language  has  led  Mistral 
to  believe  that  the  close  o  of  Old  Provencal  was 
pronounced  like  ou  in  the  modern  dialect,  which 
regularly  represents  it.  A  second  element  of 
the  "accent  du  Midi"  just  referred  to  is  the 
substitution  of  an  open  for  a  close  o.  The 
vowel  sound  of  the  word  peur  is  not  distin- 
guished from  the  close  sound  in  peu.  In  the 
orthography  of  the  Felibres  the  diagraph  ue  is 
used  as  we  find  it  in  Old  French  to  represent 
this  vowel.  Probably  the  most  striking  feature 
of  the  pronunciation  is  the  unusual  number  of 
diphthongs  and  triphthongs,  both  ascending  and 
descending.  Each  vowel  preserves  its  proper 
sound,  and  the  component  vowels  seem  to  be 
pronounced  more  slowly  and  separately  than  in 


48  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

many  languages.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  w  in  a 
diphthong  has  the  Italian  sound,  whereas  when 
single  it  sounds  as  in  French.  The  unmarked 
e  represents  the  French  ^,  as  the  e  mute  is  un- 
known to  the  Provencal. 

The  e  has  come  to  sound  like  «  before  e  and  i, 
as  in  French.  Ch  and  j  represent  the  sounds 
t%  and  dz  respectively,  and  g  before  e  and  i  has 
the  latter  sound.  There  is  no  aspirate  h.  The 
r  is  generally  uvular.  The  «  between  vowels  is 
voiced.  Only  Z,  r,  «,  and  n  are  pronounced  as 
final  consonants,  I  being  extremely  rare.  Mis- 
tral has  preserved  or  restored  other  final  con- 
sonants in  order  to  show  the  etymology,  but 
they  are  silent  except  in  liaison  in  the  elevated 
style  of  reading. 

The  language  is  richer  in  vowel  variety  than 
Italian  or  Spanish,  and  the  proportion  of  vowel 
to  consonant  probably  greater  than  in  either. 
Fortunately  for  the  student,  the  spelling  rep- 
resents the  pronunciation  very  faithfully.  A 
final  consonant  preceded  by  another  is  mute  ; 
among  single  final  consonants  only  I,  w,  n,  r,  s 
are  sounded  ;  otherwise  all  the  letters  written 
are  pronounced.  The  stressed  syllable  is  indi- 
cated, when  not  normal,  by  the  application  of 


THE  MODERN  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE   49 

practically  the  same  principles  that  determine 
the  marking  of  the  accent  in  Spanish. 

The  pronunciation  of  the  Felibres  is  heard 
among  the  people  at  Maillane  and  round  about. 
Variations  begin  as  near  as  Avignon.^ 

Koschwitz'    Grammar    treats    the    language 

^  The  edition  of  Mireio  published  by  Lemerre  in  1886  con- 
tains an  Avis  sur  laprononciation  provenqale  wherein  numer- 
ous errors  are  to  be  noted.  Here  the  statement  is  made  that 
all  the  letters  are  pronounced ;  that  ch  is  pronounced  ts,  as 
in  the  Spanish  word  muchacho.  The  fact  about  the  pro- 
nunciation of  the  ch  is  that  it  varies  in  different  places,  hav- 
ing at  Maillane  the  sound  ts,  at  Avignon,  for  instance,  the 
sound  in  the  English  chin.  It  is  stated  further  on  that  fer- 
ramento,  capello,  febre,  are  pronounced  exactly  like  the 
Italian  words  ferramento,  capello,  febbre.  The  truth  is  that 
they  are  each  pronounced  somewhat  differently  from  the 
Italian  words.  Provencal  knows  nothing  of  double  conso- 
nants in  pronunciation,  and  the  vowels  are  not  precisely  alike 
in  each  pair  of  words. 

Later  this  sentence  occurs :  "  Dans  les  triphthongues, 
comme  biais,  piei,  vuei,  nine,  la  voix  doit  dominer  sur  la 
voyelle  interm^diaire,  tout  en  faisant  sentir  les  autres." 
Only  the  first  two  of  these  four  words  contain  a  triphthong. 
Vuei  is  a  descending  diphthong,  the  ue  representing  the 
French  eu.  Niue  offers  the  same  two  vowel  sounds  inverted, 
with  the  stress  on  the  second. 

Lastly,  the  example  is  given  of  the  name  J^use.  It  is 
spelled  without  the  accent  mark,  and  the  reader  is  led  to  in- 
fer that  it  is  pronounced  as  though  it  were  a  French  name. 
Here  the  eu  is  a  diphthong.  The  first  vowel  is  the  French  e, 
the  second  the  Italian  u.    The  stress  is  on  the  first  vowel. 


60  FR^DifeRIC  MISTRAL 

historically,  and  renders  unnecessary  here  the 
presentation  of  more  than  its  most  striking 
peculiarities.  Of  these,  one  that  evokes  sur- 
prise upon  first  acquaintance  with  the  dialect 
is  the  fact  that  final  o  marks  the  feminine  of 
nouns,  adjectives,  and  participles.  It  is  a  close 
0,  somewhat  weakly  and  obscurely  pronounced, 
as  compared,  for  instance,  with  the  final  o  in 
Italian.  In  this  respect  Provencal  is  quite 
anomalous  among  Romance  languages.  In 
some  regions  of  the  Alps,  at  Nice,  at  Mont- 
pellier,  at  Le  Velay,  in  Haute-Auvergne,  in 
Roussillon,  and  in  Catalonia  the  Latin  final  a 
is  preserved,  as  in  Italian  and  Spanish. 

The  noun  has  but  one  form  for  the  singular 
and  plural.  The  distinction  of  plural  and  sin- 
gular depends  upon  the  article,  or  upon  the 
demonstrative  or  possessive  adjective  accom- 
panying the  noun.  In  liaison  adjectives  take 
«  as  a  plural  sign.  So  that,  for  the  ear,  the 
Provengal  and  French  languages  are  quite 
alike  in  regard  to  this  matter.  The  Provengal 
has  not  even  the  formal  distinction  of  the  nouns 
in  aZ,  which  in  French  make  their  plural  in  aux. 
Cheval  in  Provencal  is  chivau,  and  the  plural  is 
like  the  singular.     A  curious  fact  is  the  use  of 


THE  MODERN  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE   51 

uni  or  unis,  the  plural  of  the  indefinite  article, 
as  a  sign  of  the  dual  number ;  and  this  is  its 
exclusive  use. 

The  subject  pronoun,  when  unemphatic,  is 
not  expressed,  but  understood  from  the  termi- 
nation of  the  verb.  ISu  (je),  tu  (tu),  and  Su 
(il)  are  used  as  disjunctive  forms,  in  contrast 
with  the  French.  The  possessive  adjective 
leur  is  represented  by  si;  and  the  reflective  se 
is  used  for  the  first  plural  as  well  as  for  the 
third  singular  and  third  plural. 

The  moods  and  tenses  correspond  exactly  to 
those  of  the  French,  and  the  famous  rule  of  the 
past  participle  is  identical  with  the  one  that 
prevails  in  the  sister  language. 

Aside  from  the  omission  of  the  pronoun  sub- 
ject, and  the  use  of  one  or  two  constructions 
not  unknown  to  French,  but  not  admitted  to 
use  in  the  literary  language,  the  syntax  of  the 
Provencal  is  identical  with  that  of  the  French. 
The  inversions  of  poetry  may  disguise  this  fact 
a  little,  but  the  lack  of  individuality  in  the  sen- 
tence construction  is  obvious  in  prose.  Trans- 
lation of  Provengal  prose  into  French  prose  is 
practically  mere  word  substitution. 

Instances  of  the  constructions  just  mentioned 


62  FRtDtRIC  MISTRAL 

are  the  following.  The  relative  object  pronoun 
is  often  repeated  as  a  personal  pronoun,  so  that 
the  verb  has  its  object  expressed  twice.  The 
French  continually  offers  redundancy  of  subject 
or  complement,  but  not  with  the  relative. 

"  Estre,  i^u,  lou  marran  que  tduti  L'estrangisson  I 
Estre,  idu,  I'estrangie  que  tduti  lou  f  ugisson  1 " 

"  £!tre,  moi,  le  paria,  que  tous  rebutent ! 
£!tre,  moi,  I'^tranger  que  tout  le  monde  fuit !  " 

(Za  Reino  Jano,  Act  I,  Scene  iii.) 

The  particle  ti  is  added  to  a  verb  to  make 
it  interrogative. 

E.g.  soun-ti?    sont-ils?  Petrarco  ignoro-ti  ? 

fero4ii?       ^tait-il?  Petrarque  ignore-t-il  ? 

This  is  the  regular  form  of  interrogative  in 
the  third  person.  It  is,  of  course,  entirely  due 
to  the  influence  of  colloquial  French. 

The  French  indefinite  statement  with  the  pro- 
noun on  may  be  represented  in  Provencal  by  the 
third  plural  of  the  verb;  on  m'a  demands  is 
translated  Tn'an  demanda,  or  on  vCa  demanda. 

The  negative  ne  is  often  suppressed,  even 
with  the  correlative  que. 

The  verb  estre  is  conjugated  with  itself,  as 
in  Italian. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   53 

The  Provengal  speech  is,  therefore,  not  at  all 
what  it  would  have  been  if  it  had  had  an  inde- 
pendent literary  existence  since  the  days  of  the 
Troubadours.  The  influence  of  the  French 
has  been  overwhelming,  as  is  naturally  to  be 
expected.  A  great  number  of  idioms,  that 
seem  to  be  pure  gallicisms,  are  found,  in  spite 
of  the  deliberate  effort,  referred  to  above,  to 
eliminate  French  forms.  In  La  Reino  Jano^ 
Act  III,  Scene  iv,  we  find  14  vai  de  nostis  os,  — 
II  y  va  de  nos  os.  Vejan,  voi/ons,  is  used  as  a 
sort  of  interjection,  as  in  French.  The  parti- 
tive article  is  used  precisely  as  in  French.  We 
meet  the  narrative  infinitive  with  de.  In  short, 
the  French  reader  feels  at  home  in  the  Proven- 
gal  sentence ;  it  is  the  same  syntax  and,  to  a 
great  degree,  the  same  rhetoric.  Only  in  the 
vocabulary  does  he  feel  himself  in  a  strange 
atmosphere. 

The  strength,  the  originality,  the  true  ranon 
d'Stre  of  the  Provengal  speech  resides  in  its 
rich  vocabulary.  It  contains  a  great  number 
of  terms  denoting  objects  known  exclusively 
in  Provence,  for  which  there  is  no  correspond- 
ing term  in  the  sister  speech.  Many  plants 
have   simple,   familiar   names,   for   which  the 


64  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

French  must  substitute  a  name  that  is  either 
only  approximate,  or  learned  and  pedantic. 
Words  of  every  category  exist  to  express 
usages  that  are  exclusively  Provengal. 

The  study  of  the  modern  language  confirms 
the  results,  as  regards  etymology,  reached  by 
Diez  and  Fauriel  and  others,  who  have  busied 
themselves  with  the  Old  Provencal.  The  great 
mass  of  the  words  are  traceable  to  Latin  etyma, 
as  in  all  Romance  dialects  a  large  portion  of 
Germanic  words  are  found.  Greek  and  Arabic 
words  are  comparatively  numerous.  Basque 
and  Celtic  have  contributed  various  elements, 
and,  as  in  French,  there  is  a  long  list  of  words 
the  origin  of  which  is  undetermined. 

The  language  shares  with  the  other  southern 
Romance  languages  a  fondness  for  diminutives, 
augmentatives,  and  pejoratives,  and  is  far  richer 
than  French  in  terminations  of  these  classes. 
Long  suffixes  abound,  and  the  style  becomes, 
in  consequence,  frequently  high-sounding  and 
exaggerated. 

One  of  the  most  evident  sources  of  new 
words  in  the  language  of  Mistral  is  in  its  suf- 
fixes. Most  of  these  are  common  to  the  other 
Romance  languages,  and  have  merely  undergone 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   65 

the  phonetic  changes  that  obtain  in  this  form  of 
speech.  In  many  instances,  however,  they  differ 
in  meaning  and  in  application  from  their  corre- 
sponding forms  in  the  sister  languages,  and  a 
vast  number  of  words  are  found  the  formation 
of  which  is  peculiar  to  the  language  under  con- 
sideration. These  suffixes  contribute  largely  to 
give  the  language  its  external  appearance  ;  and 
while  a  thorough  and  scientific  study  of  them 
cannot  be  given  here,  enough  will  be  presented 
to  show  some  of  the  special  developments  of 
Mistral's  language  in  this  direction. 

-a. 

This  suffix  marks  the  infinitive  of  the  first 
conjugation,  and  also  the  past  participle.  It 
answers  to  the  French  forms  in  -er  and  -e.  As 
the  first  conjugation  is  a  so-called  "  living  "  con- 
jugation, it  is  the  termination  of  many  new 
verbs. 

-a,  -ado. 

-ado  is  the  termination  of  the  feminine  of  the 
past  participle.  This  often  becomes  an  abstract 
feminine  noun,  answering  to  the  French  ter- 
mination -ee;    armSe  in  Mistral's  language  is 


66  FRfeD:fcRIC   MISTRAL 

armado.     Examples  of  forms  peculiar  to  Pro- 
vengal  are : 

dulivo,  an  olive.  duliva,  to  gather  olives. 

dulivado,  olive  gathering, 
pie,  foot.  pi  ado,  footprint. 

-age  (masc). 

This  sufl&x  is  the  equivalent  of  the  French 
-age,  and  is  a  suffix  of  frequent  occurrence  in 
forming  new  words.  Oulivage  is  a  synonym  of 
dulivado,  mentioned  above.  A  rather  curious 
word  is  the  adverb  arrage,  meaning  at  random, 
haphazard.  It  appears  to  represent  a  Latin 
adverb,  erratice. 

Mourtau,  mourtalo,  mortal,  gives  the  noun  mourtalage, 
a  massacre. 

-agno  (fem.). 

An  interesting  example  of  the  use  of  this 
suffix  is  seen  in  the  word  eigagno,  dew,  formed 
from  aigo,  water,  as  though  there  had  been  a 
Latin  word  aquanea. 

-aio  (fem.). 
This  ending  corresponds  to  the  French  -aille. 
poulo,  a  hen.  poulaio,  a  lot  of  hens,  poultry. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE       57 

-aire  (masc). 

This  represents  the  Latin  -ator  (one  who). 
The  corresponding  feminine  in  Mistral's  works 
has  always  the  diminutive  form  -arello. 

toumba,  to  fall.  cantaire,  cantarello,  singer. 

toumbaire,toumbarello,  one  panie,  basket. 

who  falls  or  one  who  fells.  panieraire,  basket  maker. 

duliva,  to  gather  olives.  caligna,  to  court. 

dulivaire,  dulivarello,  olive  calignaire,  suitor. 

gatherer.  paternostriaire,  one  who  is 

c&nta,,  to  sing.  forever  praying. 

Like  the  corresponding  French  nouns  in  -eur, 
these  nouns  in  -aire,  as  well  as  those  in  -dire, 
are  also  used  as  adjectives. 

-aire  =  -arium. 

The  suffix  sometimes  represents  the  Latin 
-arium.  A  curious  word  is  vejaire,  meaning 
opinion,  manner  of  seeing,  as  though  there  had 
been  a  Latin  word  videarium.  It  sometimes 
has  the  form  jaire  or  chaire,  through  the  loss  of 
the  first  syllable. 

-an,   -ano. 

This  suffix  is  common  in  the  Romance  lan- 
guages. Fihan,  filial^  seems  to  be  peculiar  to 
the  Provencal. 


68  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

-anci  (fern.). 

This  is  the  form  corresponding  to  the  French 
-ance.  Abundance  is  in  Mistral's  dialect  ahoun- 
ddnci. 

-ant,   -anto. 

This  is  the  termination  of  the  present  parti- 
ciple and  verbal  adjective  derived  from  verbs 
in  -a.  These  words  sometimes  have  a  special 
meaning,  as  toumbant,  declivity. 

-ard,   -ardo. 
Gaiard  is  Proven9al  for  the  French  gaillard. 

-ari. 

This  represents  the  Latin  -arius.  Abouticari 
is  Provengal  for  apothecary. 

-as. 

This  is  an  augmentative  suffix  of  very  fre- 
quent use. 

pore,  hog.  pourcas,  great  hog. 

serp,  snake.  serpatas,  great  serpent. 

cast^u,  fort.  castelas, /or<rcss. 

rouco,  rock.  roucas,  great  rock. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   59 

-asso. 
This  is  a  pejorative  suffix. 
vido,  life.  vidasso,  wretched  life. 

-astre. 
In  French  this  suffix  has  the  form  -4tre. 
dulivastre  (Fr.  olivatre),  olive  in  color. 

-at. 

Constat  is  in  French  cotS  (side). 
The  suffix  is  often  diminutive. 

auc,  a  gander.  aucat,  gosling. 

passero,  sparrow.  passerat,  small  sparrow. 

-au,  -alo. 

This  is  the  form  of  the  widely  used  suffix 
-al.  Mistral  uses  paternau  for  paternal.,  and 
also  the  adjective  formed  upon  paire,  father^ 
peirenau,  peirenalo,  fatherly. 

bourg,  city.  bourgau,  bourgalo,  civil. 

-edo  (fem.). 

pin,  pine.  pinedo,  pine-grove. 

clapo,  stone.  claparedo,  stony  plain. 

dulivo,  olive.  dulivaredo,  olive-orchard. 


eo 


FRfeD]fcRIC  MISTRAL 


-eire,  -erello. 

This  suffix  corresponds  to  the  suffix  -aire, 
mentioned  above.  It  is  appended  to  the  stem 
of  verbs  not  of  the  first  conjugation. 

courre,  to  run. 


legi,  to  read. 


courrfeire,    courerello,    run' 

ner. 
legeire,  legerello,  reader. 


-eja. 


This  is  an  exceedingly  common  verb-suffix, 
corresponding  to  the  Italian  -eggiare. 

toumbaraleja,  to  cart. 
farandouleja,  to  dance  the 

farandole. 
poutouneja,  to  kiss. 
poumpouneja,  to  caress. 
segnoureja,  to  lord  it  over. 
mistraleja,  to  roar  like  the 

mistral. 
poudreja,  tojire  a  gun. 
clareja,  to  brighten. 


toumbarfeu,  kind  of  cart. 
f  arandolo,  farandole. 

poutoun,  ^*c 
poumpoun,  caress. 
segnour,  lord. 
mistral,  wind  of  the  Rhone 

valley. 
poudro,  powder. 
clar,  bright. 


-en  (masc),  -enco  (fem.). 
This  is  a  common  adjective-suffix. 

souleu,  sun.  souleien,  souleienco,  sunny. 

mai,  May.  maien,  maienco,  relating  to 

May. 
madalenen,     madalenenco, 

like  Magdalen. 


Madaleno,  Magdalen. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE   61 

-es  (masc),  -esso  (fem.). 

This  suffix  corresponds  to  the  French  -ais, 
-aise.     Liounes  =  lyonnais. 

-et  (masc),  -eto  (fem.). 

This  is  perhaps  the  commonest  of  the  diminu- 
tive suffixes. 

ome,  man.  oumenet,  little  man. 

fiho,  daughter.  fiheto,  dear  daughter. 

enfan,  child.  enfantounet,  little  child. 

vfent,  wind.  ventoulet,  breeze. 

toiimba,  to  fall.  toumbaraleto,  little  leaps. 

chato,  girl.  chatouueto,  little  girl. 

malaut,  ill.  malautounet,  sickly. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  double  diminu- 
tive termination  is  the  most  frequent. 

Sometimes  the  -et  is  not  diminutive.     Ouliveto 

may  mean  a  small  olive  or  a  field  planted  with 

olives. 

-eu  (masc),  -ello  (fem.). 

This  suffix  is  often  diminutive. 

paorin,  poor  chap.  paurineu,   paurinello,  poor 

little  fellow  or  girl. 

pin,  ^in«.  pinateu,  young  pine. 

pinatello,  forest   of  young 
pines. 

sauvage,  wild.  sauvageu,  sauvagello,  some- 

what wild. 


62  FR^DflRIC  MISTRAL 

Sometimes  it  is  not. 

toumba,  to  fall.  toumbareu,  -ello,  likely  to 

fall 
canta,  to  sing.  cantareu,  -ello,  songful. 

crese,  to  believe.  cresereu,   -ello,   inclined   to 

belief. 

-i. 

This  is  a  verb-suffix,  marking  the  infinitive 
of  a  "  living  "  conjugation. 

bourgau,  civil.  abourgali,  to  civilize. 

-ie  (fem.). 

Carestie,  dearness,  stands  in  contrast  to  the 
Italian  carestia. 

priva,  to  train,  to  tame.  privadie,  sweet  food  given  in 

training  animals. 

-ie  (masc),  -iero  (fem.). 
This  is  the  equivalent  of  the  French  -ier. 


dulivie,  olive  tree.  pinatie,      |    a  dwelling 

bouchid,  butcher.  pinatiero,  J  among  pines. 


-ieu  (masc),  -ivo  (fem.). 

This  is  the  form  corresponding  to  the  French 
-if,  -ive. 
ablati^u,  ablative.  vieu,  vivo,  lively. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   63 

-ige  (m.). 

According  to  Mistral,  this  represents  the 
Latin  -ities.  We  incline  to  think  rather  that 
it  corresponds  to  -age,  being  added  chiefly  to 
words  in  e.     -age  fits  rather  upon  stems  in  a. 

gounfle,  swollen.  gounflige,  swelling. 

Felibre.  Felibrige. 

paure,  poor.  paurige,  poverty. 

-iho  (fern.). 
This  suffix  makes  collective  nouns. 

pastre,  shepherd.  pastriho,  company  of  shep- 

herds. 
paure,  j)oor.  pauriho,  the  poor. 

-in  (m.),  -ino  (fem.). 

This  is  usually  diminutive  or  pejorative, 
paurin,  poor  wretch. 

-ioun  (fem.). 

This  corresponds  to  the  French  -ion. 

nacioun,  nation.  abdicacioun,  abdication, 

erme,  desert.  asserma,  to  dry  up. 

assermacioun,  thirst,  dryness. 


64  FRiiDfiRIC  MISTRAL 

-is  (masc),  -isso  (fern.). 

Crida,  to  cry.  cridadisso,  cries  of  woe. 

chapla,  to  slay.  chapladis,  slaughter. 

coula,  to  flow.  couladis  or  couladisso,  flow- 

ing. 

abareja,  to  throw  pell-mell.         abarejadis,  confusion. 

toumba,  to  fall.  toumbadis,    -isso,    tottering 

(adj.). 

This  suffix  is  added  to  the  past  participle 
stem 

-isoun  (fem.). 
This  suffix  forms  nouns  from  verbs  in  -i. 

abalauvi,  to  make  dizzy,  to      abalauvisoun,  vertigo, 
confound. 

-men  (masc). 

This  corresponds  to  the  French  -ment ;  basti- 
men  =  batiment,  ship. 

abouli,  to  abolish.  aboulimen,  abolition. 

toumba,  to  fall.  toumbamen,  fall. 

-men  (adverb), 
urous,  urouso,  happy.  urousamen,  happily. 

It  is  to  be  noted  here  that  the  adverb  has  the 
vowel  of  the  old  feminine  termination  a,  and 
not  the  modern  o. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   65 


-ot  (masc),  -oto  (fern.). 

A  diminutive  suffix. 
vilo,  toum.  viloto,  little  town. 

Sometimes  the  stem  no  longer  exists  sepa- 
rately. 

mignot,  mignoto,  darling.         pichot,  pichoto,    little  hoy, 

little  girl. 

-oto  (fern.), 
passa,  to />as9.  passaroto,  ^(M«m^  to  amfyro. 

-ou  (masc). 

This  is  a  noun-suffix  of  very  frequent  use. 
It  seems  to  be  for  Latin  -or  and  -orium. 


jouga,  to  play. 

abla,  to  brag  (cf.  Fr.  hdbler). 

abausi,  to    abuse,   to   exag^ 

gerate. 
courre,  to  run. 
lava,  to  wash. 
espande,  to  expand. 

escourre,  to  flow  out. 
toumba,  to  fall. 
abeura,  to  water. 
passa,  to  sift. 
mounda,  to  winnow. 


jougadou,  player. 
abladou,  braggart. 
abausidou,  braggart. 

courredou,  corridor. 
lavadou,  lavatory. 
espandidou,  expanse,  pano- 
rama. 
escourredou,  passage,  hollow. 
toumbadou,  water-fall, 
abeuradou,  drinking-trough. 
passadou,  sieve. 
mouudadou,  sieve. 


66  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

-ouge. 
This  is  an  adjective  suffix, 
iver,  winter.  ivernouge,  wintry. 

-oun  (masc),  -ouno  (fern.). 
A  diminutive  suffix. 

enfan,  child.  enfantoun,enfantouno,^i«/e 

child. 
pauriho,  the  poor.  paurihoun,  poor  wretch. 

-ounge  (masc). 
A  suffix  forming  nouns  from  adjectives. 
viM,  old.  vieiounge,  old  age. 

-our  (fern.). 
This  is  like  the  above, 
vifei,  old.  vifeiour,  old  age. 

-ous,  -ouso. 

This  is  the  Latin  -osus ;  French  -eux,  -euse. 
It  forms  many  new  words  in  Mistral. 

urous  (Fr,  heureux),  happy.  pouderous  (It.  and  Sp.  po- 
aboundous,  abundant.  deroso),  powerful. 

pin,  pine.  pinous,  covered  with  pines. 

escalabra,  to  climb.  escalabrous,  precipitous. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   67 

-ta  (fern.). 

This  is  the  equivalent  of  the  Latin  -tas, 
French  -te.  In  Mistral's  language  it  is  usually 
preceded  by  a  connecting  vowel  e. 

mouudaneta,  worldliness.  soucieta,  society. 

paureta,  poverty. 

-u  (masc.)»  -udo  (fern.). 

This  ending  terminates  the  past  participles 
of  verbs  whose  infinitive  ends  in  e.  It  also 
forms  many  new  adjectives. 

astre,  star.  malastru,  ill-starred. 

sabe,  to  know.  saberu,  learned. 

The  feminine  form  often  becomes  a  noun, 
escourre,  to  run  out.  escourregudo,  excursion. 

-un  (masc). 
This  is  a  very  common  noun-suffix. 


clar,  bright. 

clarun,  brightness. 

rat,  rat. 

ratun,  lot  of  rats,  smell  of 

rats. 

paure,  poor. 

paurun,  poverty. 

dansa,  to  dance. 

dansun,  love  of  dancing. 

plagne,  to  pity. 

plagnun,  complaining. 

viei,  old. 

vieiun,  old  age. 

68  FR6d6rIC  mistral 

-uro  (fern.). 

toumba,  to  fall.  toumbaduro,  a  fall. 

escourre,  to  flow  away.  escourreduro,    what    flows 

away. 
bagna,  to  wet.  bagnaduro,  dew. 

This  partial  survey  of  the  subject  of  the  suf- 
fixes in  Mistral's  dialect  will  suffice  to  show 
that  it  is  possible  to  create  words  indefinitely. 
There  is  no  academy  to  check  abuse,  no  large, 
cultivated  public  to  disapprove  of  the  new 
forms.  The  Felibres  have  been  free.  A  fond- 
ness for  diminutives  marks  all  the  languages  of 
southern  Europe,  and  a  love  of  long  termina- 
tions generally  distinguished  Spanish  latinity. 
The  language  of  the  Felibres  is  by  no  means 
free  from  the  grandiloquence  and  pomposity  that 
results  from  the  employment  of  these  high- 
sounding  and  long  terminations.  Toumbarelado, 
toumbarelaire^  are  rather  big  in  the  majesty  of 
their  five  syllables  to  denote  a  cart-load  and  its 
driver  respectively.  The  abundance  of  this 
vocabulary  is  at  any  rate  manifest.  We  have 
here  not  a  poor  dialect,  but  one  that  began  with 
a  large  vocabulary  and  in  possession  of  the 
power  of  indefinite  development  and  recreation 
out  of  its  own  resources.     It  forms  compounds 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   69 

with  greater  readiness  than  French,  and  the 
learner  is  impressed  by  the  unusual  number  of 
compound  adverbs,  some  of  very  peculiar  for- 
mation. Tourna-mai  (again)  is  an  example. 
Somewhat  on  the  model  of  the  French  va-et- 
vient  is  the  word  li  mounto-davalo,  the  ups  and 
downs.  Un  regardo-veni  means  a  look-out. 
Noun-ren  is  nothingness.  Ped-terrou8  (earthy 
foot)  indicates  a  peasant. 

Onomatopoetic  words,  like  zounzoun,  vounvoun^ 
dinddnti^  are  common. 

Very  interesting  as  throwing  light  upon  the 
Proven9al  temperament  are  the  numerous  and 
constantly  recurring  interjections.  This  trait 
in  the  man  of  the  Midi  is  one  that  Daudet  has 
brought  out  humorously  in  the  Tartarin  books. 
It  is  often  difficult  in  serious  situations  to  take 
these  explosive  monosyllables  seriously. 

In  his  study  of  Mistral's  poetry,  Gaston  Paris 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  Provencal 
vocabulary  offers  many  words  of  low  association, 
or  at  least  that  these  words  suggest  what  is  low 
or  trivial  to  the  French  reader ;  he  admits  that 
the  effect  upon  the  Proven9al  reader  may  not 
be,  and  is  likely  not  to  be,  the  same  ;  but  even 
the  latter  must  occasionally  experience  a  feeling 


70  FR^DfeRIC   MISTRAL 

of  surprise  or  slight  shock  to  find  such  words 
used  in  elevated  style.  For  the  English  reader 
it  is  even  worse.  Many  such  expressions  could 
not  be  rendered  literally  at  all.  Mistral  resents 
this  criticism,  and  maintains  that  the  words  in 
question  are  employed  in  current  usage  with- 
out calling  up  the  image  of  the  low  association. 
This  statement,  of  course,  must  be  accepted. 
It  is  true  of  all  languages  that  words  rise  and 
fall  in  dignity,  and  their  origin  and  association 
are  momentarily  or  permanently  forgotten. 

The  undeniably  great  success  of  this  new 
Provengal  literature  justifies  completely  the 
revival  of  the  dialect.  As  Burns  speaks  from 
his  soul  only  in  the  speech  of  his  mother's  fire- 
side, so  the  Proven9al  nature  can  only  be  fully 
expressed  in  the  home-dialect.  Roumanille 
wrote  for  Provencals  only.  Mistral  and  his 
associates  early  became  more  ambitious.  His 
works  have  been  invariably  published  with 
French  translations,  and  more  readers  know 
them  through  the  translations  than  through  the 
originals.  But  they  are  what  they  are  because 
they  were  conceived  in  the  patois,  and  because 
their  author  was  fired  with  a  love  of  the  lan- 
guage itself. 


THE  MODERN  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE   71 

As  to  the  future  of  this  rich  and  beautiful 
idiom,  nothing  can  be  predicted.  The  Felibrige 
movement  appears  to  have  endowed  southern 
France  with  a  literary  language  rivalling  the 
French;  it  appears  to  have  given  an  impulse 
toward  the  unification  of  the  dialects  and  sub- 
dialects  of  the  langue  cfoc.  But  the  patoisants 
are  numerous  and  powerful,  and  will  not 
abdicate  their  right  to  continue  to  speak  and 
write  their  local  dialects  in  the  face  of  the 
superiority  of  the  Felibrige  literature.  Is  it  to 
be  expected  that  Frenchmen  in  the  south  will 
hereafter  know  and  use  three  languages  and 
three  literatures — the  local  dialect,  the  language 
of  the  Felibres,  and  the  national  language  and 
literature  ?  One  is  inclined  to  think  not.  The 
practical  difficulties  are  very  great ;  two  litera- 
tures are  more  than  most  men  can  become 
familiar  with. 

However,  this  much  is  certain:  a  rich,  har- 
monious language  has  been  saved  forever  and 
crystallized  in  works  of  great  beauty  ;  its  revi- 
val has  infused  a  fresh,  intellectual  activity  into 
the  people  whose  birthright  it  is ;  it  has  been 
studied  with  delight  by  many  who  were  not 
born  in  sunny  Provence ;  a  very  great  contri- 


72  FK^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

bution  is  made  through  it  to  philological  study. 
Enthusiasts  have  dreamed  of  its  becoming  an 
international  language,  on  account  of  its  inter- 
mediary position,  its  simplicity,  and  the  fact 
that  it  is  not  the  language  of  any  nation. 
Enthusiasm  has  here  run  pretty  high,  as  is  apt 
to  be  the  case  in  the  south. 

In  connection  with  the  revival  of  all  these 
dialects  the  opinion  of  two  men,  eminent  in  the 
science  of  education,  is  of  the  greatest  interest. 
Eugene  Lintilhac  approves  the  view  of  a  pro- 
fessor of  Latin,  member  of  the  Institute,  who 
had  often  noticed  the  superiority  of  the  peasants 
of  the  frontier  regions  over  those  from  the  in- 
terior, and  who  said,  "It  is  not  surprising,  do 
they  not  pass  their  lives  translating  ?  "  Michel 
Breal  considers  the  patois  a  great  help  in  the 
study  of  the  official  language,  on  the  principle 
that  a  term  of  comparison  is  necessary  in  the 
study  of  a  language.  As  between  Provencal 
and  French  this  comparison  would  be  between 
words,  rather  than  in  syntax.  Often  the  child's 
respect  for  his  home  would  be  increased  if  he 
sees  the  antiquity  of  the  speech  of  his  fireside ; 
if,  as  Breal  puts  it,  he  is  shown  that  his  dialect 
conforms  frequently  to  the  speech  of  Henri  IV 


THE  MODERN  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE   73 

or  St.  Louis.  "  If  the  province  has  authors  like 
Jasmin,  Roumanille,  or  Mistral,  let  the  child 
read  their  books  from  time  to  time  along  with 
his  French  books;  he  will  feel  proud  of  his 
province,  and  will  love  France  only  the  more. 
The  clergy  is  well  aware  of  this  power  of  the 
native  dialect,  and  knows  how  to  turn  it  to 
account,  and  your  culture  is  often  without 
root  and  without  depth,  because  you  have  not 
recognized  the  strength  of  these  bonds  that 
bind  to  a  locality.  The  school  must  be  fast  to 
the  soil  and  not  merely  seem  to  be  standing  upon 
it.  There  need  be  no  fear  of  thereby  shak- 
ing the  authority  of  the  official  language ;  the 
necessity  of  the  latter  is  continually  kept  in 
sight  by  literature,  journalism,  the  administra- 
tion of  government." 

The  revival  of  this  speech  could  not  fail  to 
interest  lovers  of  literature.  If  not  a  lineal 
descendant,  it  is  at  least  a  descendant,  of  the 
language  that  centuries  ago  brought  an  era  of 
beauty  and  light  to  Europe,  that  inspired  Dante 
and  Petrarch,  and  gave  to  modern  literatures 
the  poetic  forms  that  still  bear  their  Provengal 
names.  The  modern  dialect  is  devoted  to  other 
uses  now ;  it  is  still  a  language  of  brightness 


74  FR^D^RIC   MISTRAL 

and  sunshine,  graceful  and  artistic,  but  instead 
of  giving  expression  to  the  conventionalities  of 
courtly  love,  or  tending  to  soften  the  natures 
of  fierce  feudal  barons,  it  now  sings  chiefly  of 
the  simple,  genuine  sentiments  of  the  human 
heart,  of  the  real  beauties  of  nature,  of  the 
charm  of  wholesome,  outdoor  life,  of  healthy 
toil  and  simple  living,  of  the  love  of  home  and 
country,  and  brings  at  least  a  message  of  hope 
and  cheer  at  a  time  when  greater  literatures  are 
burdened  with  a  weight  of  discouragement  and 
pessimism. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE  F^LIBRES 

The  versification  of  the  Felibres  follows  in 
the  main  the  rules  observed  by  the  French 
poets.  As  in  all  the  Romance  languages  the 
verse  consists  of  a  given  number  of  syllables, 
and  the  number  of  stressed  syllables  in  the  line 
is  not  constant.  The  few  differences  to  be 
noted  between  French  verse  and  Provencal 
verse  arise  from  three  differences  in  the  lan- 
guages. The  Provengal  has  no  e  mute^  and 
therefore  all  the  syllables  theoretically  counted 
are  distinctly  heard,  and  the  masculine  and  the 
feminine  rhymes  are  fully  distinguished  in  pro- 
nunciation. The  new  language  possesses  a 
number  of  diphthongs,  and  the  unaccented  part 
of  the  diphthong,  a  m  or  an  i,  constitutes  a  con- 
sonant either  before  or  after  a  vowel  in  another 
word,  being  really  a  w>  or  a  y.  This  prevents 
hiatus,  which  is  banished  from  Provencal  verse 
as  it  is  from  French,  and  here  again  theory  and 
76 


76  FR^DlfcRIC  MISTRAL 

practice  are  in  accord,  for  the  elision  of  the 
e  mute  where  this  e  follows  a  vowel  readmits 
hiatus  into  the  French  line,  and  no  such  phe- 
nomenon is  known  to  the  Provencal.  Thirdly, 
the  stressed  syllable  of  each  word  is  strongly 
marked,  and  verse  exists  as  strongly  and  reg- 
ularly accentual  as  in  English  or  German. 
This  is  seen  in  the  numerous  poems  written  to 
be  sung  to  an  air  already  existing.  The  accents 
in  these  pieces  fall  with  the  rhythmic  beat  the 
English  ear  is  accustomed  to  and  which  it  so 
misses  on  first  acquaintance  with  French  verse. 
A  second  consequence  of  this  stronger  stress  is 
that  verse  is  written  without  rhyme  ;  the  entire 
Poem  of  the  Rhone  is  written  in  ten-syllable 
feminine  verses  unrhymed. 

"  O  terns  di  viei,  d'antico  bounoumio, 
Que  lis  oustau  avien  ges  de  sarraio 
E  que  li  gent,  k  Coundrieu  coume  au  nostre, 
Se  gatihavon,  au  caleu,  p^r  rire !  "       (Canto  I.) 

Mistral  has  made  use  of  all  the  varieties  of 
verse  known  to  the  French  poets.  One  of  the 
poems  in  the  Isclo  d' Or  offers  an  example  of 
fourteen-syllable  verse ;  it  is  called  L'Amira- 
dou  (The  Belvedere).  Here  are  the  first  two 
stanzas ;  — 


THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE  FELIBRES     77 

**  Au  casteu  de  Tarascoun,  i'a  'no  reino,  i'a  'no  fado 
Au  casteu  de  Tarascoun 
I'a  'no  fado  que  s'escound. 

**  Aqn^n  que  ie  durbira  la  presoun  ounte  es  clavado 
Aqueu  que  ie  durbira 
Belfeu  elo  Tamara."  ^ 

We  may  note  here  instances  of  the  special 
features  of  Provencal  versification  mentioned 
above.  The  i  in  i'a,  the  equivalent  of  the 
French  il  y  a,  is  really  a  consonant.  This  i 
occurs  again  in  the  fourth  of  the  lines  quoted, 
so  that  there  is  no  hiatus  between  que  and  iS. 
In  like  manner  the  u  of  heleu,  in  the  last  line, 
stands  with  the  sound  of  the  English  w  between 
this  and  elo.  The  e  of  ounte  is  elided.  It  will 
be  observed  that  there  is  a  caesura  between  the 
seventh  and  eighth  syllables  of  the  long  line, 
and  that  the  verse  has  a  marked  rhythmic  beat, 
with  decided  trochaic  movement,  — 

1  In  the  castle  at  Tarascon  there  is  a  queen,  there  is  a  fairy, 
In  the  castle  of  Tarascon 
There  is  a  fairy  in  hiding. 

The  one  who  shall  open  the  prison  wherein  she  is  confined, 
The  one  who  shall  open  for  her, 
Perhaps  she  will  love  him. 


78  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

In  his  use  of  French  Alexandrine,  or  twelve- 
syllable  verse,  Mistral  takes  few  liberties  as  to 
caesura.  No  ternary  verses  are  found  in  Mireio^ 
that  is,  verses  that  fall  into  three  equal  parts. 
In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  his  Alexandrines, 
except  in  the  play  La  Reino  Jano^  represent  the 
classical  type  of  the  French  poets.  To  be  noted, 
however,  is  the  presence  of  feminine  caesuras. 
These  occur,  not  theoretically  or  intentionally, 
but  as  a  consequence  of  pronunciation,  and  are 
an  additional  beauty  in  that  they  vary  the 
movement  of  the  lines.  The  unstressed  vowel 
at  the  hemistich,  theoretically  elided,  is  pro- 
nounced because  of  the  natural  pause  interven- 
ing between  the  two  parts  of  the  verse. 

"  Per  duliva  tant  d'aubre  I  —  H6u,  tout  ac6  se  fai !" 

(Mirfeio,  Canto  I.) 

In  one  of  the  divisions  of  Lou  Tambour  cfArcolo 
(The  Drummer  of  Arcole),  the  poet  uses  ten- 
syllable  verse  with  the  caesura  after  the  sixth 
syllable,  an  exceedingly  unusual  caesura,  imi- 
tated from  the  poem  G-irard  de  Boussillon. 

"  Ah  I  lou  pichot  tambour  |  devengufe  flbri  I 
Davans  touto  I'arma  |  —  do  en  plen  souleu, 
F^r  estelk  soun  front  |  d'un  rai  de  glbri,"  etc. 


THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE   F:fcLIBRES      79 

Elsewhere  he  uses  this  verse  divided  after  the 

fourth  syllable,  and  less  frequently  after  the 

fifth. 

The    stanza     used    by    Mistral    throughout 

Mireio  and    Calendau    is   his   own   invention. 

Here  is  the  first  stanza  of  the  second  canto  of 

Mireio  :  — 

"  Cantas,  cantas,  magnanarello, 
Que  la  culido  es  cantarello ! 
Galant  soun  li  magnan  e  s'endormon  di  tres : 
Lis  amourie  soun  plen  de  fiho 
Que  lou  beu  terns  escarrabiho, 
Courae  un  vou  de  bldundis  abiho 
Que  raubon  sa  melico  i  roumanin  ddu  gres." 

This  certainly  is  a  stanza  of  great  beauty,  and 
eminently  adapted  to  the  language.  Mistral  is 
exceedingly  skilful  in  the  use  of  it,  distributing 
pauses  effectively,  breaking  the  monotony  of  the 
repeated  feminine  verses  with  enjambements,  and 
continuing  the  sense  from  one  stanza  to  the 
next.  This  stanza,  like  the  language,  is  pretty 
and  would  scarcely  be  a  suitable  vehicle  for  po- 
etic expression  requiring  great  depth  or  state- 
liness.  Provencal  verse  in  general  cannot  be 
said  to  possess  majesty  or  the  rich  orchestral 
quality  Brunetiere  finds  in  Victor  Hugo.  Its 
qualities    are    sweetness,   daintiness,   rapidity, 


80  FR:feD:feRIC  MISTRAL 

grace,  a  merry,  tripping  flow,  great  smoothness, 
and  very  musical  rhythm. 

Mireio  contains  one  ballad  and  two  lyrics  in 
a  measure  differing  from  that  of  the  rest  of 
the  poem.  The  ballad  of  the  Bailiff  Suffren 
has  the  swing  and  movement  a  sea  ballad  should 
possess.  The  stanza  is  of  six  lines,  of  ten  syl- 
lables each,  with  the  caesura  after  the  fifth 
syllable,  the  rhymes  being  a55,  aha. 

"  Lou  Baile  Sufrfen  |  que  sus  mar  coumando." 

In  the  third  canto  occurs  the  famous  song 
Magali,  so  popular  in  Provence.  The  melody 
is  printed  at  the  end  of  the  volume.  Mireio's 
prayer  in  the  tenth  canto  is  in  five-syllable  verse 
with  rhymes  ahhdb. 

The  poems  of  the  laclo  d'  Or  offer  over  eighty 
varieties  of  strophe,  a  most  remarkable  number. 
This  variety  is  produced  by  combining  in  dif- 
ferent manners  the  verse  lengths,  and  by  changes 
in  the  succession  of  rhymes.  Whatever  inge- 
nuity Mistral  has  exercised  in  the  creation  of 
rhythms,  the  impression  must  not  be  created  that 
inspiration  has  suffered  through  attention  to 
mechanism,  or  that  he  is  to  be  classed  with  the  old 
Provencal  versifiers  or  those  who  flourished  in 


THE   VERSIFICATION   OF   THE   F^LIBRES      81 

northern  France  just  before  the  time  of  Marot. 
Artifice  is  always  strictly  subordinated,  and  the 
poet  seems  to  sing  spontaneously.  No  violence 
is  ever  done  to  the  language  in  order  to  force 
it  into  artificial  moulds,  there  is  no  punning  in 
rhymes,  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  charged 
against  the  poet  as  beneath  the  real  dignity  of 
his  art. 

Let  us  look  at  some  of  the  more  striking  of 
these  verse  forms.  The  second  of  Li  Cansoun^ 
Lou  Bastimen,  offers  the  following  form  :  — 

"Lou  bastimen  ven  de  Maiorco 
Emd  d'arange  un  cargamen  : 
An  courouna  de  vferdi  torco 
L'aubre-mestre  ddu  bastimen : 

Urousamen 

Ven  de  Maiorco 

Lou  bastimen."  * 

This  stanza  reproduces  in  the  sixth  line  the 
last  word  of  the  first,  and  in  the  seventh  the 
last  word  of  the  fourth. 

An  excellent  example  of  accentual  verse  set 
to  an  already  existing  melody  is  seen  in  Li 
Bon  Prouvenfau.     The  air  is  :  — 

1  The  ship  comes  from  Majorca  with  a  cargo  of  oranges : 
the  mainmast  of  the  ship  has  been  crowned  with  green  gar- 
lands :  safely  the  ship  arrives  from  Majorca. 

9 


82  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

"  Si  le  roi  m'avait  donnd 
Paris,  sa  grand'  vUle." 

We  quote  tlie  first  stanza :  — 

"  Bouf  o,  au  siecle  mounte  sian 

Uno  auro  superbo 
Que  vou  faire  rfen  qu'un  tian 

De  tduti  lis  erbo : 
Nautri,  li  bon  Prouven<jau 
Aparan  lou  viei  casau 

Ounte  fan  I'aleto 

Nosti  dindouleto."  ^ 

This  poem  scans  itself  with  perfect  regu- 
larity, and  the  rhythm  of  the  tune  is  evident 
to  the  reader  who  may  never  have  heard  the 
actual  music. 

The  stanza  of  La  Tourre  de  Barhentano  is  as 
follows :  — 

"  L'Evesque  d'Avignoun,  Mounsen  Grimau, 
A  fa  basti  'no  tourre  k  Barbentano 
Qu'  enrabio  vent  de  mar  e  tremountano 
E  fai  despoutenta  I'Esprit  ddu  mau. 
Assegurado 

Sus  lou  roucas 
Forto  e  carrado 
Escounjiurado 

'^  There  blows,  in  this  age,  a  proud  wind,  which  would 
make  a  mere  hash  of  all  herbs :  we,  the  good  Provencals, 
defend  the  old  home  over  which  our  swallows  hover. 


THE   VERSIFICATION  OF  THE   F^LIBRES      83 

Porto  au  soulfeu  soun  front  bouscas : 
Mememen  i  fenestro,  dins  lou  cas 
Que  vouguesse  lou  Diable  intra  di  vitro, 
A  fa  Mounsen  Grimau  grava  sa  mitro."  * 

Here  is  a  stanza  of  Lou  Renegat :  — 

"  Jan  de  Gounf  aroun,  pres  pfer  de  courskri, 
Dins  li  Janisskri 
Sfet  an  a  servi : 
Fau,  enco  di  Turc,  ave  la  coudeno 
Facho  k  la  cadeno 
Emai  au  rouvi."  * 

The  stanza  employed  in  La  CadSno  de  MbustiS 
is  remarkable  in  having  only  one  masculine  and 
one  feminine  rhyme  in  its  seven  lines :  — 

"  Presounie  di  Sarrasin, 
Engimbra  coume  un  caraco, 
Em'  un  calot  cremesin 
Que  lou  blanc  soulfeu  eidraco, 
En  virant  la  pouso-raco, 

1  The  bishop  of  Avignon,  Monseigneur  Grimoard,  hath 
built  a  tower  at  Barbentane,  which  excites  the  rage  of  the 
sea  wind  and  the  northern  blast,  and  strips  the  Spirit  of  Evil 
of  his  power.  Solid  upon  the  rock,  strong,  square,  freed  of 
demons,  it  lifts  its  fierce  brow  sunward ;  likewise  upon  the 
windows,  in  case  the  devil  might  wish  to  enter  thereby,  Mon- 
seigneur Grimoard  has  had  his  mitre  carved. 

2  John  of  Gonfaron,  captured  by  corsairs  in  the  Janis- 
saries, served  seven  years.  Among  the  Turks  a  man  must 
use  his  skin  to  chains  and  rust. 


84  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

Rico-raco, 
Blacasset  pregavo  ansin."  * 

The  "  roumanso  "  of  La  Reino  Jano  offers  a 

stanza  containing  only  five  rhymes  in  fourteen 

lines :  — 

"  Fieu  de  Maiano 
S'ere  vengu  ddu  terns 

De  Dono  Jano, 
Quand  ero  k  soun  print^ms 

E  soubeirano 
Coume  feron  autre-tfems, 

S^nso  autro  engano 
Que  soun  regard  courous, 
Auri^u,  d'elo  amourous, 
Trouva,  i^u  benurous, 
Tant  fino  cansouneto 
Que  la  bello  Janeto 
M'auri^  douna  'n  mantra 
Pfer  parfeisse  i  castfeu."  * 

The  rhythm  of  the  noble  Saume  de  la  Peni- 
tenei  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  Segnour,  k  la  fin  ta  coul^ro 
Largo  si  tron 

1  Prisoner  of  the  Saracens,  accoutred  like  a  gypsy,  with  a 
crimson  turban,  dried  by  the  while  sun,  turning  the  creaking 
water-wheel,  Blac  prayed  thus. 

*  A  son  of  Maillane,  if  I  had  come  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Joanna  when  she  was  in  her  springtime  and  a  sovereign  such 
as  they  were  in  those  days,  with  no  other  diplomacy  than  her 


THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE  F^LIBRES      85 

Sus  nosti  front : 
E  dins  la  nine  nosto  gal^ro 
Pico  d'a  pro 
Contro  U  ro."  ^ 

Another  peculiar  stanza  is  exhibited  in  Lou 
Prego-DiSu :  — 

"  Ero  un  tantost  d'aquest  estidu 
Que  ni  vihave  ni  dourmidu : 
Fasieu  miejour,  tau  que  me  plaise, 
Lou  cabass6u 
Toucant  lou  s6u, 
A  I'aise."  ^ 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  all  in  point 
of  originality,  not  to  say  queerness,  is  Lou  Blad 
de  Luno.  The  rhyme  in  lin  is  repeated  through- 
out seventeen  stanzas,  and  of  course  no  word  is 

used  twice. 

"  La  luno  barbano 
Debano 
De  lano. 

bright  glance,  in  love  with  her,  I  should  have  found,  lucky  I, 
so  fine  a  song  that  the  fair  Joanna  would  have  given  me  a 
mantle  to  appear  in  the  castles. 

1  This  poem  will  be  found  translated  in  full  at  the  end  of 
the  book. 

*    It  was  an  afternoon  of  this  summer, 
While  I  neither  woke  nor  slept, 
I  was  taking  my  noonday  rest,  as  is  my  pleasure, 
My  head  touching  the  ground  at  ease. 


86  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

S'entend  peralin 
L'aigo  que  lalejo 
E  batarelejo 
Darrid  lou  moulin. 

La  luuo  barbano 
Debano 
Delin."! 

The  little  poem,  Auhencho^  is  interesting  as 
offering  two  rhymes  in  its  nine  lines. 

Mistral's  sonnets  offer  some  peculiarities. 
He  has  one  composed  of  lines  of  six  syllables, 
others  of  eight,  besides  those  considered  regular 
in  French,  consisting,  namely,  of  twelve  syl- 
lables. The  following  sonnet  addressed  to 
Roumania  appears  to  be  unique  in   form  :  — 

"  Quand  lou  chaple  a  pres  fin,  que  lou  loup  e  la  russi 
An  rousiga  lis  os,  lou  soul^u  flamejant 
Esvalis  gaiamen  lou  brumage  destriissi 
E  lou  prat  bataid  tourno  leu  verdejant. 

"  Aprfes  lou  long  trep^  di  Turc  emai  di  Riissi 
T'an  visto  ansin  renaisse,  o  nacioun  de  Trajan, 
Coume  I'astre  lusfent,  que  sort  ddu  negre  esliissi, 
Em^  lou  nouvelun  di  chato  de  quinge  an. 

1  The  ghostly  moon  is  unwinding  wool. 
Afar  off  is  heard  the  gurgling  water  shaking  the  clapper 

behind  the  mill. 
The  ghostly  moon  is  unwinding  flax. 


THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE  FilLIBRES     87 

"  E  li  ra90  latino 
A  ta  lengo  argentino 
An  couneigu  I'ounour  que  dins  toun  sang  V  avi^ ; 

"  E  t'apelant  germano, 
La  Prouven90  roumano 
Te  mando,  o  Roumanio,  un  rampau  d'dulivi^."* 

It  would  be  a  hopeless  task  for  an  English 
translator  to  attempt  versions  of  these  poems 
that  should  reproduce  the  original  strophe 
forms.  A  few  such  translations  have  been 
made  into  German,  which  possesses  a  much 
greater  wealth  of  rhyme  than  English.  Let 
us  repeat  that  it  must  not  be  imputed  to  Mis- 
tral as  a  fault  that  he  is  too  clever  a  versifier. 
His  strophes  are  not  the  artificial  complications 
of  the  Troubadours,  and  if  these  greatly  varied 

1  When  the  slaughter  is  over,  when  the  wolf  and  the  buz- 
zard have  gnawed  the  bones,  the  flaming  sun  scatters  merrily 
the  hurtful  vapors  and  the  battlefield  soon  becomes  green 
once  more. 

After  the  long  trampling  of  the  Turks  and  Russians,  thou, 
too,  art  seen  thus  reborn,  O  nation  of  Trajan,  like  the  shin- 
ing star  coming  forth  from  the  dark  eclipse,  with  the  youth 
of  a  maiden  of  fifteen. 

And  the  Latin  races,  in  thy  silvery  speech,  have  recog- 
nized the  honor  that  lay  in  thy  blood ;  and  calling  thee 
sister,  the  Romance  Provence  sends  thee,  Roumania,  an 
olive  branch. 


88  FRiJDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

forms  cost  him  effort  to  produce,  his  art  is  most 
marvellously  concealed.  More  likely  it  is  that 
the  almost  inexhaustible  abundance  of  rhymes 
in  the  Provencal,  and  the  ease  of  construction  of 
merely  syllabic  verse,  explain  in  great  meas- 
ure his  fertility  in  the  production  of  stanzas. 
Some  others  of  the  F^libres,  even  Aubanel,  in 
our  opinion,  have  produced  verse  that  is  very 
ordinary  in  quality.  Verse  may  be  made  too 
easily  in  this  dialect,  and  fluent  rhymed  lan- 
guage that  merely  expresses  commonplace  sen- 
timent may  readily  be  mistaken  for  poetry. 

The  wealth  of  rhyme  in  the  Provengal  lan- 
guage appears  to  be  greater  than  in  any  other 
form  of  Romance  speech.  As  compared  with 
Italian  and  Spanish,  it  may  be  noted  that  the 
Provencal  has  no  proparoxytone  words,  and 
hence  a  whole  class  of  words  is  brought  into 
the  two  categories  possible  in  Provengal. 
Though  the  number  of  different  vowels  and 
diphthongs  is  greater  than  in  these  two  lan- 
guages, only  three  consonants  are  found  as 
finals,  w,  r,  «  (I  very  rarely).  The  consequent 
great  abundance  of  rhymes  is  limited  by  an 
insistence  upon  the  rich  rhyme  to  an  extent 
scarcely   attainable   in    French  ;    in   fact,   the 


THE  VERSIFICATION  OF  THE   FifeLIBRES      89 

merely  sufficient  rhyme  is  very  rare.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  so  many  of  the  feminine 
rhymes  terminate  in  o.  In  the  Poem  of  the 
Mhone,  composed  entirely  in  feminine  verses, 
passages  occur  where  nine  successive  lines  end 
in  this  letter,  and  the  verses  in  a  vastly  out- 
number all  others.  In  this  unrhymed  poem, 
assonance  is  very  carefully  avoided. 

The  play,  Queen  Joanna,  is  remarkable  among 
the  productions  of  Mistral  as  being  the  only 
work  of  any  length  he  has  produced  that 
makes  extensive  use  of  the  Alexandrine.  In 
fact,  the  versification  is  precisely  that  of  any 
modern  French  play  written  in  verse  ;  and  we 
may  note  here  the  liberties  as  to  csesura  and 
enjambements  which  are  now  usual  in  French 
verse.  We  remark  elsewhere  the  lack  of  in- 
dependence in  the  dialect  of  Avignon,  that  its 
vocabulary  alone  gives  it  life.  Not  only  has  it 
no  syntax  of  its  own,  but  it  really  has  been  a 
difficulty  of  the  poet  in  translating  his  own 
Alexandrines  into  French  prose,  not  to  produce 
verses ;  nor  has  he  always  avoided  them.  Here, 
for  instance,  is  a  distich  which  not  only  becomes 
French  when  translated  word  for  word,  but 
also  reproduces  exactly  metre  and  rhyme :  — 


90  FR^DfeRlC  MISTRAL 

"  En  un  mot  tout  me  dis  que  lou  cfeu  predestino 
Un  revieure  de  glori  k  la  terro  latino. 

"  En  un  mot  tout  me  dit  que  le  ciel  predestine 
Un  renouveau  de  gloire  k  la  terre  latine." 

The  effectiveness,  the  charm,  and  the  beauty 
of  this  verse,  for  those  who  understand  and 
feel  the  language,  cannot  be  denied ;  and  if 
this  poetic  literature  did  not  meet  a  want,  it 
could  not  exist  and  grow  as  it  does.  The  fact 
that  the  prose  literature  is  so  slight,  so  scanty, 
is  highly  significant.  The  poetry  that  goes 
straight  to  the  heart,  that  speaks  to  the  inner 
feeling,  that  calls  forth  a  response,  must  be 
composed  in  the  home  speech.  It  is  exceed- 
ingly unlikely  that  a  prose  literature  of  any 
importance  will  ever  grow  up  in  Provence. 
No  great  historians  or  dramatists,  and  few 
novelists,  will  ever  write  in  this  dialect.  The 
people  of  Provence  will  acquire  their  knowl- 
edge and  thelir  general  higher  culture  in  French 
literature.  But  they  will  doubtless  enjoy  that 
poetry  best  which  sings  to  them  of  themselves 
in  the  speech  of  their  firesides.  Mistral  has 
endowed  them  with  a  verse  language  that  has 
high   artistic   possibilities,  some   of  which  he 


THE  VEKSIFICATION  OF  THE  F^LIBRES     91 

has  realized  most  completely.  The  music  of 
his  verse  is  the  music  that  expresses  the  nature 
of  his  people.  It  is  the  music  of  the  gai  savoir. 
Brightness,  merriment,  movement,  quick  and 
sudden  emotion,  —  not  often  deep  or  sustained, 
—  exuberance  and  enthusiasm,  love  of  light  and 
life,  are  predominant ;  and  the  verse,  absolutely 
free  from  strong  and  heavy  combinations  of 
consonants,  ripples  and  glistens  with  its  pretty 
terminations,  full  of  color,  full  of  vivacity,  full 
of  the  sunny  south. 


CHAPTER  V 

MISTRAL'S   DICTIONARY   OF   THE    PROVENgAL 
LANGUAGE 

Au  MiEJOUB 

Sant  Jan,  vfengue  meissoun,  abro  si  fi6  de  joio ; 
Amount  sus  I'aigo-vers  lou  pastre  pensatieu, 
En  I'ounour  ddu  pais,  enausso  uno  mount-joio 
£  marco  li  pasquie  mounte  a  passa  I'esti^u. 

Emai  i^u,  en  laurant  —  e  quichant  moun  ancboio, 
Per  lou  noum  de  Prouven90  ai  fa  90  que  poudi^u ; 
E,  Dieu  de  moun  pres-fa  m'aguent  douna  la  voio, 
Dins  la  rego,  k  geinoui,  vuei  r^nde  grkci  h  Dieu. 

En  terro,  fin  qu'au  sistre,  a  cava  moun  araire ; 
E  lou  brounze  rouman  e  Tor  dLs  emperaire 
Treluson  au  souleu  dintre  lou  blad  que  sort.  .  .  . 

O  pople  ddu  Miejour,  escouto  moun  arengo : 
Se  vos  recounquista  I'empferi  de  ta  lengo. 
Per  t'arnesca  de  n6u,  pesco  en  aqu^u  Tresor. 

"Saint   John,   at  harvest  time,  kindles  his 
bonfires;    high  up  on  the  mountain  slope  the 
thoughtful  shepherd  places  a  pile  of  stones  in 
02 


DICTIONARY  OF  PROVENgAL  LANGUAGE    93 

honor  of  the  country,  and  marks  the  pastures 
where  he  has  passed  the  summer. 

"  I,  too,  tilling  and  living  frugally,  have  done 
what  I  could  for  the  fame  of  Provence;  and 
God  having  permitted  me  to  complete  my 
task,  to-day,  on  my  knees  in  the  furrow,  I 
offer  thanks  to  Him. 

"  My  plough  has  dug  into  the  soil  down  to 
the  rock  ;  and  the  Roman  bronze  and  the  gold 
of  the  emperors  gleam  in  the  sunlight  among 
the  growing  wheat. 

"Oh,  people  of  the  South,  heed  my  saying: 
If  you  wish  to  win  back  the  empire  of  your 
language,  equip  yourselves  anew  by  drawing 
upon  this  Treasury." 

Such  is  the  sonnet,  dated  October  7,  1878, 
which  Mistral  has  placed  at  the  beginning  of 
his  vast  dictionary  of  the  dialects  of  southern 
France.  The  title  of  the  work  is  Lou  Tresor 
d6u  Felihrige  or  Dictionnaire  provengal-frangais. 
It  is  published  in  two  large  quarto  volumes, 
offering  a  total  of  2361  pages.  This  great  work 
occupied  the  poet  some  ten  years,  and  is  the 
most  complete  and  most  important  work  of  its 
kind  that  has  been  made.  The  statement  that 
this  work  represents  for  the  ProvenQal  dialect 


U  TRtDtmC  MISTRAL 

what  Littre's  monumental  dictionary  is  for  the 
French,  is  not  exaggerated.  Nothing  that 
Mistral  has  done  entitles  him  in  a  greater  de- 
gree to  the  gratitude  of  students  of  Romance 
philology,  and  the  fact  that  the  work  has  been 
done  in  so  masterful  a  fashion  by  one  who  is 
not  first  of  all  a  philologist  excites  our  wonder 
and  admiration.  And  let  us  not  forget  that 
it  was  above  all  else  a  labor  of  love,  such  as 
probably  never  was  undertaken  elsewhere,  un- 
less the  work  of  Ivar  Aasen  in  the  Old  Norse 
dialects  be  counted  as  such ;  and  there  is  some- 
thing that  appeals  strongly  to  the  imagination 
in  the  thought  of  this  poet's  labor  to  render 
imperishable  the  language  so  dear  to  him. 
Years  were  spent  in  journeying  about  among 
all  classes  of  people,  questioning  workmen 
and  sailors,  asking  them  the  names  they  ap- 
plied to  the  objects  they  use,  recording  their 
proverbial  expressions,  noting  their  peculiari- 
ties of  pronunciation,  listening  to  the  songs 
of  the  peasants ;  and  then  all  was  reduced  to 
order  and  we  have  a  work  that  is  really  monu- 
mental. 

The  dictionary  professes  to  contain  all   the 
words  used  in  South  France,  with  their  mean- 


DICTIONARY  OF  PROVENQAL  LANGUAGE     95 

ing  in  French,  their  proper  and  figurative 
acceptations,  augmentatives,  diminutives,  with 
examples  and  quotations.  Along  with  each 
word  we  have  all  its  various  forms  as  they 
appear  in  the  different  dialects,  its  forms  in 
the  older  dialects,  the  closely  related  forms  in 
the  other  Romance  languages,  and  its  etymol- 
ogy. A  special  feature  of  the  work  in  view 
of  its  destination  is  the  placing  of  numerous 
synonyms  along  with  each  word.  The  diction- 
ary almost  contains  a  grammar,  for  the  con- 
jugation of  regular  and  of  irregular  verbs  in 
all  the  dialects  is  given,  and  each  word  is 
treated  in  its  grammatical  relations.  Technical 
terms  of  all  arts  and  trades ;  popular  terms  in 
natural  history,  with  their  scientific  equiva- 
lents ;  all  the  geographical  names  of  the  region 
in  all  their  forms ;  proper  historical  names ; 
family  names  common  in  the  south;  explana- 
tions as  to  customs,  manners,  institutions,  tradi- 
tions, and  beliefs ;  biographical,  bibliographical, 
and  historical  facts  of  importance  ;  and  a  com- 
plete collection  of  proverbs,  riddles,  and  popu- 
lar idioms  —  such  are  the  contents  of  this 
prodigious  work. 

If  any  weakness  is  to  be  found,  it  is,  of  course. 


06  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

in  the  etymological  part.  Even  here  we  can  but 
pay  tribute  to  Mistral.  If  he  can  be  accused, 
now  and  then,  of  suggesting  an  etymology  that 
is  impossible  or  unscientific,  let  it  be  gratefully 
conceded  that  his  desire  is  to  offer  the  etymolo- 
gist all  possible  help  by  placing  at  his  disposal 
all  the  material  that  can  be  found.  The  pains 
Mistral  has  taken  to  look  up  all  possibly  related 
words  in  Greek,  Arabic,  Basque,  and  English, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  Old  Provencal  and  Latin, 
would  alone  suffice  to  call  forth  the  deepest 
gratitude  on  the  part  of  all  students  of  the 
subject. 

This  dictionary  makes  order  out  of  chaos, 
and  although  the  language  of  the  Felibres  is 
justly  said  to  be  an  artificial  literary  language, 
we  have  in  this  work  along  with  the  form 
adopted  or  created  by  the  poet  an  orderly 
presentation  of  all  the  speech-forms  of  the 
langiie  d'oc  as  they  really  exist  in  the  mouths 
of  the  people. 


PART  SECOND 
THE  POETICAL  WOKKS  OF  MISTRAL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS 
I.  MiBEio  (Mireille) 

The  publication  of  this  poem  in  1859  is  an 
event  of  capital  importance  in  the  history  of 
modern  Provencal  literature.  Recognized  im- 
mediately as  a  master-work,  it  fired  the  ambi- 
tions of  the  Felibres,  enlarged  the  horizon  of 
possibilities  for  the  new  speech,  and  earned  for 
its  author  the  admiration  of  critics  in  and  out 
of  France.  Original  in  language  and  in  con- 
ception, full  of  the  charm  of  rustic  life,  con- 
taining a  pathetic  tale  of  love,  a  sweet  human 
interest,  and  glowing  with  pictures  of  the 
strange  and  lovely  landscapes  of  Provence,  the 
poem  charmed  all  readers,  and  will  doubtless 
always  rank  as  a  work  that  belongs  to  general 
literature.  Of  no  other  work  written  in  this 
dialect  can  the  same  be  asserted.  Mistral  has 
not  had  an  equal  success  since,  and  in  spite  of 
99 


100  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

the  merit  of  his  other  productions,  his  literary 
fame  will  certainly  always  be  based  upon  this 
poem.  Whatever  be  the  destiny  of  this  revival, 
the  author  of  Mireio  has  probably  already  taken 
his  place  among  the  immortals  of  literature. 

He  has  incarnated  in  this  poem  all  that  is 
sweetest  and  best,  all  that  is  most  typical  in  the 
life  of  his  region.  The  tale  is  told,  in  general, 
with  complete  simplicity,  sobriety,  and  concise- 
ness. The  poet's  heart  and  soul  are  in  his 
work  from  beginning  to  end,  and  it  seems  more 
genuinely  inspired  than  any  of  the  long  poems 
he  has  written  subsequently. 

In  the  first  canto  the  author  says,  — 

"  Car  cantan  que  per  vautre,  o  pastre  e  gent  di  mas." 
For  we  sing  for  you  alone,  O  shepherds  and  people  of  the 
farms, 

and  when  he  wrote  this  verse,  he  was  doubtless 
sincere.  Later,  however,  he  must  have  become 
conscious  that  a  work  of  great  artistic  beauty 
was  growing  under  his  hand,  and  that  it  would 
find  a  truly  appreciative  public  more  probably 
among  the  cultivated  classes  than  among  the 
peasants  of  Provence.  Hence  the  French  prose 
translation;  and  hence,  furthermore,  a  paradox 
in  the  position  Mistral  assumed.     Since  those 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  101 

who  really  appreciate  and  admire  his  poetry  are 
the  cultivated  classes  who  know  French,  and 
since  the  peasants  who  use  the  dialect  cannot 
feel  the  artistic  worth  of  his  literary  produc- 
tion, or  even  understand  the  elevated  diction 
he  is  forced  to  employ,  should  he  not,  after  all, 
have  written  in  French?  The  idea  of  Rou- 
manille  was  simpler  and  less  ambitious  than 
that  of  Mistral;  he  aimed  to  give  the  humble 
classes  about  him  a  literature  within  their 
reach,  that  should  give  them  moral  lessons,  and 
appeal  to  the  best  within  them.  Mistral,  de- 
veloping into  a  poet  of  genius  while  striving 
to  attain  the  same  object,  could  not  fail  to 
change  the  object,  and  this  contradiction  be- 
comes apparent  in  Mireio,  and  constitutes  a 
problem  in  any  discussion  of  his  literary 
work. 

The  story  of  MirMo  may  be  told  in  a  few 
words.  She  is  a  beautiful  young  girl  of  fifteen, 
living  at  the  mas  of  her  father,  Ramoun.  She 
falls  in  love  with  a  handsome,  stalwart  youth, 
Vincen,  son  of  a  poor  basket-maker.  But  the 
difference  in  worldly  wealth  is  too  great,  her 
father  and  mother  violently  oppose  their  union, 
and  so,  one  night,  the  maiden,  in  despair,  rushes 


102  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

away  from  home,  across  the  great  plain  of 
the  Crau,  across  the  Rhone,  across  the  island 
of  Camargue,  to  the  church  of  the  three  Maries. 
Vincen  had  told  her  to  seek  their  aid  in  any 
time  of  trouble.  Here  she  prays  to  the  three 
saints  to  give  Vincen  to  her,  but  the  poor  girl  has 
been  overcome  by  the  terrible  heat  of  the  sun 
in  crossing  the  treeless  plains  and  is  found  by 
her  parents  and  friends  unconscious  before  the 
altar.  Vincen  comes  also  and  joins  his  lamen- 
tations to  theirs.  The  holy  caskets  are  lowered 
from  the  chapel  above,  but  no  prayers  avail  to 
save  the  maiden's  life.  She  expires,  with  words 
of  hope  upon  her  lips. 

This  simple  tale  is  told  in  twelve  cantos;  it 
aims  to  be  an  epic,  and  in  its  external  form  is 
such.  It  employs  freely  the  merveilleux  chri- 
tien^  condemned  by  Boileau,  and  in  one  canto. 
La  Maseo  (The  Witch),  the  poet's  desire  to  em- 
body the  superstitions  of  his  ignorant  landsmen 
has  led  him  entirely  astray.  The  opening  stanza 
begins  in  true  epic  fashion :  — 

"  Cante  uno  chato  de  Prouvfen90 
Dins  lis  amour  de  sa  jouvfen^o." 

I  sing  a  maiden  of  Provence 
In  her  girlhood's  love. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  103 

The  invocation  is  addressed  to  Christ:  — 

Thou,  Lord  God  of  my  native  land, 
Who  wast  born  among  the  shepherd-folk, 
Fire  my  words  and  give  me  breath. 

The  epic  character  of  the  poem  is  sustained 
further  than  in  its  mere  outward  form;  the 
manner  of  telling  is  truly  epic.  The  art  of  the 
poet  is  throughout  singularly  objective,  his  nar- 
rative is  a  narrative  of  actions,  his  personages 
speak  and  move  before  us,  without  interven- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  author  to  analyze  their 
thoughts  and  motives.  He  is  absent  from  his 
work  even  in  the  numerous  descriptions. 
Everything  is  presented  from  the  outside. 

From  the  outset  the  poem  enjoyed  great  suc- 
cess, and  the  enthusiastic  praise  of  Lamartine 
contributed  greatly  thereto.  In  gratitude  for 
this.  Mistral  dedicated  the  work  to  Lamartine 
in  one  of  his  most  happy  inspirations,  and  these 
dedicatory  lines  appear  in  Lis  Iselo  cf  Or  and  in 
all  the  subsequent  editions  of  Mireio.  Mistral 
had  professed  great  admiration  for  the  author 
of  Joeelyn  even  before  1859,  but  as  poets  they 
stand  in  marked  contrast.  We  may  partly 
define  Mistral's  art  in  stating  that  it  is  utterly 
unlike  that  of  Lamartine.     Mistral's  inspiration 


104  FR^D^RIC   MISTRAL 

is  not  that  of  a  Romantic ;  his  art  sense  is  de- 
rived directly  from  the  study  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  classics.  In  all  that  Mistral  has  written 
there  is  very  little  that  springs  from  his  per- 
sonal sorrows.  The  great  body  of  his  poetry 
is  epic  in  character,  and  the  best  of  his  work  in 
the  lyric  form  gives  expression  not  to  merely 
personal  emotion,  but  to  the  feeling  of  the  race 
to  which  he  belongs. 

The  action  of  the  poem  begins  one  day  that 
Vinc^n  and  his  father  Meste  Ambroi,  the  bas- 
ket-makers, were  wandering  along  the  road  in 
search  of  work.  Their  conversation  makes 
them  known,  and  depicts  for  us  the  old  Mas  des 
Micocoules^  the  home  of  the  prosperous  father 
of  Mirdio.  We  learn  of  his  wealth  in  lands,  in 
olives,  in  almonds,  and  in  bees.  We  watch  the 
farm-hands  coming  home  at  evening.  When 
the  basket-makers  reach  the  gate,  they  find  the 
daughter  of  the  house,  who,  having  just  fed  her 
silkworms,  is  now  twisting  a  skein.  The  man 
and  the  youth  ask  to  sleep  for  the  night  upon  a 
haystack,  and  stop  in  friendly  talk  with  Mireio. 
The  poet  describes  Vincen,  a  dark,  stalwart 
youth  of  sixteen,  and  tells  of  his  skill  at  his 
trade.   Mdste  Ramoun  invites  them  in  to  supper. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER   POEMS  105 

Mireio  runs  to  serve  them.  In  exquisite  verse 
the  poet  depicts  her  grace  and  beauty. 

When  all  have  eaten,  at  the  request  of  the 
farm-hands,  to  which  Mireio  adds  hers,  Mdste 
Ambroi  sings  a  stirring  ballad  about  the  naval 
victories  of  Suffren,  and  the  gallant  conduct  of 
the  ProvenQal  sailors  who  whipped  the  British 
tars. 

"  And  the  old  basket-maker  finished  his  naval 
song  in  time,  for  his  voice  was  about  to  break  in 
tears,  but  too  soon,  surely,  for  the  farm-hands, 
for,  without  moving,  with  their  heads  intent 
and  lips  parted,  long  after  the  song  had  ceased^ 
they  were  listening  still." 

And  then  the  men  go  about  their  affairs  and 
leave  Vinc^n  and  Mirdio  alone  together.  Their 
talk  is  full  of  charm.  Vinc^n  is  eloquent,  like  a 
true  southerner,  and  tells  his  experiences  with 
flashing  eye  and  animated  gestures.  Here 
we  learn  of  the  belief  in  the  three  Maries,  who 
have  their  church  in  the  Camargue.  Here  Vin- 
c^n  narrates  a  foot-race  in  which  he  took  part 
at  Nimes,  and  Mireio  listens  in  rapt  attention. 
"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  she  to  her  mother,  "that 
for  a  basket-maker's  child  he  talks  wonder- 
fully.    O   mother,   it  is   a  pleasure    to   sleep 


106  fr^dIjric  mistral 

in  winter,  but  now  the  night  is  too  bright  to 

sleep,  but  let  us  listen  awhile  yet.    I  could  pass 

my  evenings  and  my  life  listening  to  him." 

The  second  canto  opens  with  the  exquisite 

stanza  beginning, — 

"  Cantas,  caiitas,  magnanarello 
Que  la  culido  es  cantarello  I " 

and  the  poet  evidently  fell  in  love  with  its 
music,  for  he  repeats  it,  with  slight  variations, 
several  times  during  the  canto.  This  second 
canto  is  a  delight  from  beginning  to  end ;  Mis- 
tral is  here  in  his  element ;  he  is  at  his  very 
best.  The  girls  sing  merrily  in  the  lovely 
sunshine  as  they  gather  the  silkworms,  Mireio 
among  them.  Vincen  passes  along,  and  the 
two  engage  in  conversation.  Mistral  cannot  be 
praised  too  highly  for  the  sweetness,  the  natural- 
ness, the  animation  of  this  scene.  Mireio  learns 
of  Vincen's  lonely  winter  evenings,  of  his  sister, 
who  is  like  Mireio  but  not  so  fair,  and  they 
forget  to  work.  But  they  make  good  the  time 
lost,  only  now  and  then  their  fingers  meet  as 
they  put  the  silkworms  into  the  bag.  And 
then  they  find  a  nest  of  little  birds,  and  the 
saying  goes  that  when  two  find  a  nest  at  the 
top  of  a  tree  a  year  cannot  pass  but  that  Holy 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  107 

Church  unite  them.  So  says  Mireio ;  but  Vincen 
adds  that  this  is  only  true  if  the  young  escape 
before  they  are  put  into  a  cage.  "  Jesu  moun 
Dieu  !  take  care,"  cries  the  young  girl,  "  catch 
them  carefully,  for  this  concerns  us."  So  Vin- 
cen gets  the  young  birds,  and  Mirdio  puts  them 
carefully  into  her  bodice;  but  they  dig  and 
scratch,  and  must  be  transferred  to  Vincen's 
cap ;  and  then  the  branch  breaks,  and  the  two 
fall  together  in  close  embrace  upon  the  soft 
grass.     The  poet  breaks  into  song :  — 

"  Fresh  breezes,  that  stir  the  canopy  of  the 
woods,  let  your  merry  murmur  soften  into 
silence  over  the  young  couple!  Wandering 
zephyrs,  breathe  softly,  give  time  to  dream, 
give  them  time  at  least  to  dream  of  happi- 
ness! Thou  that  ripplest  o'er  thy  bed,  go 
slowly,  slowly,  little  brook !  Make  not  so  much 
sound  among  the  stones,  make  not  so  much 
sound,  for  the  two  souls  have  gone  off,  in  the 
same  beam  of  fire,  like  a  swarming  hive  —  let 
them  hover  in  the  starry  air  ! " 

But  Mireio  quickly  releases  herself;  the 
young  man  is  full  of  anxiety  lest  she  be  hurt, 
and  curses  the  devilish  tree  "planted  a  Friday ! " 
But  she,  with  a  trembling  she  cannot  control,  tells 


108  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

of  an  inner  torment  that  takes  away  hearing  and 
sight,  and  keeps  her  heart  beating.  Vincen  won- 
ders if  it  may  not  be  fear  of  a  scolding  from  her 
mother,  or  a  sunstroke.  Then  Mir^io,  in  a  sud- 
den outburst,  like  a  Wagnerian  heroine,  confesses 
her  love  to  the  astonished  boy,  who  remains 
dazed,  and  believes  for  a  time  that  she  is  cruelly 
trifling  with  him.  She  reassures  him,  passion- 
ately. "  Do  not  speak  so,"  cries  the  boy,  "  from 
me  to  you  there  is  a  labyrinth;  you  are  the 
queen  of  the  Mas,  all  bow  before  you ;  I,  peas- 
ant of  Valabregue,  am  nothing,  Mireio,  but  a 
worker  in  the  fields!"  "Ah,  what  is  it  to  me 
whether  my  beloved  be  a  baron  or  a  basket- 
weaver,  provided  he  is  pleasing  to  me.  Why, 
O  Vincen,  in  your  rags  do  you  appear  to  me 
so  handsome?" 

And  then  the  young  man  is  as  inspired,  and 
in  impassioned,  well-nigh  extravagant  language 
tells  of  his  love  for  Mireio.  He  is  like  a  fig 
tree  he  once  saw  that  grew  thin  and  miserable 
out  of  a  rock  near  Vaucluse,  and  once  a  year 
the  water  comes  and  the  tree  quenches  its 
thirst,  and  renews  its  life  for  a  year.  And  the 
youth  is  the  fig  tree  and  Mireio  the  fountain. 
"And   would   to   Heaven,  would   to   Heaven, 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  109 

that  I,  poor  boy,  that  I  might  once  a  year,  as 
now,  upon  my  knees,  sun  myself  in  the  beams 
of  thy  countenance,  and  graze  thy  fingers  with 
a  trembling  kiss."  And  then  her  mother  calls. 
Mireio  runs  to  the  house,  while  he  stands 
motionless  as  in  a  dream. 

No  resume  or  even  translation  can  give  the 
beauty  of  this  canto,  its  brightness,  its  music, 
its  vivacity,  the  perfect  harmony  between  words 
and  sense,  the  graceful  succession  of  the  rhymes 
and  the  cadence  of  the  stanzas.  Elsewhere  in  the 
chapter  on  versification  a  reference  is  made  to  the 
mechanical  difficulties  of  translation,  but  there 
are  difficulties  of  a  deeper  order.  The  Felibres 
put  forth  great  claims  for  the  richness  of  their 
vocabulary,  and  they  undoubtedly  exaggerate. 
Yet,  how  shall  we  render  into  English  or  French 
the  word  embessouna  when  describing  the  fall 
of  Mireio  and  Vincdn  from  the  tree.  Mistral 
writes :  — 

"  Toumbon,  embessouna,  sus  lou  souple  margai." 

Bessoun  (in  French,  hesson)  means  a  twin, 
and  the  participle  expresses  the  idea,  clasped 
together  like  twins.  (Mistral  translates,  "  serres 
comme   deux   jumeaux.")      An  expression  of 


110  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

this  sort,  of  course,  adds  little  to  the  prose  lan- 
guage ;  but  this  power,  untrammelled  by  aca- 
demic traditions,  of  creating  a  word  for  the 
moment,  is  essential  to  the  freshness  of  poetic 
style. 

What  is  to  be  praised  above  all  in  these  two 
exquisite  cantos  is  the  pervading  naturalness. 
The  similes  and  metaphors,  however  bold  and 
original,  are  always  drawn  from  the  life  of  the 
speakers.  Meste  Ambroi,  declining  at  first  to 
sing,  says  "  lA  mirau  soun  creha  !  "  (The  mirrors 
are  broken),  referring  to  the  membranes  of  the 
locust  that  make  its  song.  "  Like  a  scythe 
under  the  hammer,"  "  Their  heads  leaning 
together  like  two  marsh-flowers  in  bloom,  blow- 
ing in  the  merry  wind,"  "  His  words  flowed 
abundantly  like  a  sudden  shower  on  an  after- 
math in  May,"  "  When  your  eyes  beam  upon 
me,  it  seems  to  me  I  drink  a  draught  of  per- 
fumed wine,"  "  My  sister  is  burned  like  a 
branch  of  the  date  tree,"  "  You  are  like  the 
asphodel,  and  the  tanned  hand  of  Summer  dares 
not  caress  your  white  brow,"  "Slender  as  a 
dragon-fly,"  are  comparisons  taken  at  random. 
Of  Mireio  the  poet  says,  "  The  merry  sun  hath 
hatched  her  out,"   "  Her  glance  is  like  dew, 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  111 

her  rounded  bosom  is  a  double  peach  not  yet 
ripe." 

The  background  of  the  action  is  obtained 
by  the  simplest  description,  a  cart  casting  the 
shadow  of  its  great  wheels,  a  bell  now  and  then 
sounding  afar  off  across  the  marshes,  references 
to  the  owl  adding  its  plaint  to  the  song  of  the 
nightingale,  to  the  crickets  who  stop  to  listen 
now  and  then,  and  the  recurring  verses  about 
the  "  magnanarello  "  reminds  us  now  and  then, 
like  a  lovely  leitmotiv,  of  the  group  of  singing 
girls  about  the  amorous  pair. 

The  next  canto  is  called  La  Descoucounado 
(The  Opening  of  the  Cocoons),  and  it  must  be 
confessed  that  there  is  a  slight  falling  off  in 
interest.  All  that  describes  the  life  of  the 
country-folk  is  full  of  sustained  charm,  but 
Mistral  has  not  escaped  the  dangers  that  beset 
the  modern  poet  who  aims  at  the  epic  style. 
Here  begins  the  recounting  of  the  numerous 
superstitions  of  the  ignorant  peasants,  and  the 
wonders  of  Provence  are  interpolated  at  every 
turn.  The  maidens,  while  engaged  in  stripping 
the  cocoons,  make  known  a  long  list  of  popular 
beliefs,  and  then  branch  off  into  a  conversa- 
tion about  love.     They  are  surprisingly  well 


li2  FRfeDljRIC  MISTRAL 

acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Jean  de  Nos- 
tradamus, to  whom  the  Felibres  are  indebted 
for  a  lot  of  erroneous  ideas  concerning  the 
Troubadours  and  the  Courts  of  Love.  This 
literary  conversation  is  not  convincing,  and  we 
are  pleased  when  Noro  sings  the  pretty  song  of 
Magali,  which,  composed  to  be  sung  to  an  air 
well  known  in  Provence,  has  become  very  popu- 
lar. The  idea  is  not  new ;  the  young  girl  sings 
of  successive  forms  she  will  assume,  to  avoid  the 
attentions  of  her  suitor,  and  he,  ingeniously, 
finds  the  transformation  necessary  to  overcome 
her.  For  instance,  when  she  becomes  a  rose, 
he  changes  into  a  butterfly  to  kiss  her.  At  last 
the  maiden  becomes  convinced  of  the  love  of 
her  pursuer,  and  is  won. 

The  fourth  canto,  Li  Demandaire  (The  Suit- 
ors), recalls  the  Homeric  style,  and  is  among 
the  finest  of  the  poem.  Alari,  the  shepherd, 
Veran,  the  keeper  of  horses,  and  Ourrias,  who 
has  herds  of  bulls  in  the  Camargue,  present 
themselves  successively  for  the  hand  of  Mireio. 
The  "  transhumance  des  troupeaux "  is  de- 
scribed in  verse  full  of  vigorous  movement ; 
the  sheep  are  taken  up  into  the  Alps  for  the 
summer,  and  then  in  the  fall  brought  down  to 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  113 

the  great  plain  of  the  Crau  near  the  Delta  of 
the  Rhone.  The  whole  description  is  made 
with  bold,  simple  strokes  of  the  brush,  offering 
a  vivid  picture  not  to  be  forgotten.  Alari, 
too,  offers  a  marvellously  carved  wooden  cup, 
adorned  with  pastoral  scenes.  Veran  owns  a 
hundred  white  mares,  whose  manes,  thick  and 
flowing  like  the  grass  of  the  marshes,  are 
untouched  by  the  shears,  and  float  above  their 
necks,  as  they  bound  fiercely  along,  like  a  fairy's 
scarf.  They  are  never  subdued,  and  often,  after 
years  of  exile  from  the  salt  meadows  of  the 
Camargue,  they  throw  off  their  rider,  and  gallop 
over  twenty  leagues  of  marshes  to  the  land  of 
their  birth,  to  breathe  the  free  salt  air  of  the 
sea.  Their  element  is  the  sea  ;  they  have  surely 
broken  loose  from  the  chariot  of  Neptune  ;  they 
are  still  white  with  foam  ;  and  when  the  sea 
roars  and  darkens,  when  the  ships  break  their 
cables,  the  stallions  of  the  Camargue  neigh 
with  joy. 

And  Ramoun  welcomes  Veran,  and  hopes 
that  Mireio  will  wed  him,  and  calls  his  daugh- 
ter, who  gently  refuses.  The  third  suitor,  Our- 
rias,  has  no  better  fortune.  The  account  of 
this  man's  giant  strength,  the  narrative  of  his 


114  fr6dI:ric  mistral 

exploits  in  subduing  the  wild  bulls,  are  quite 
Homeric.  The  story  is  told  of  the  scar  he 
bears,  how  one  of  the  fiercest  bulls  that  he  had 
branded  carried  him  along,  threw  him  ahead  on 
the  ground,  and  then  hurled  him  high  into  the 
air.  The  strong,  fierce  man  presents  his  suit, 
describing  the  life  the  women  lead  in  the 
Camargue  ;  but  before  he  has  her  love,  "his 
trident  will  bear  flowers,  the  hills  will  melt 
away  like  wax,  and  the  journey  to  Les  Baux 
will  be  by  sea."  This  canto  and  the  next, 
recounting  the  fierce  combat  between  Ourrias 
and  Vincen,  are  really  splendid  narrative  poetry. 
The  style  is  marvellously  compressed,  and  the 
story  thrilling.  The  sullen  anger  of  Ourrias, 
his  insult  that  does  not  spare  Mireio,  the  indig- 
nation of  Vincen,  that  fires  him  with  unwonted 
strength,  the  battle  of  the  two  men  out  alone 
in  the  fields  near  the  mighty  Pont  du  Gard, 
Vincen's  victory  in  the  trial  of  strength,  the 
treachery  of  Ourrias,  who  sneaks  back  and 
strikes  his  enemy  down  with  the  trident. 
"  With  a  mighty  groan  the  hapless  boy  rolls  at 
full  length  upon  the  grass,  and  the  grass  yields, 
bloody,  and  over  his  earthy  limbs  the  ants  of 
the   fields    already   make    their    way."      The 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  115 

rapidity,  the  compactness  of  the  sentences, 
impressed  Gaston  Paris  as  very  remarkable. 
The  assassin  gallops  away  upon  his  mare,  and 
seeks  by  night  to  cross  the  Rhone.  A  singu- 
larly felicitous  use  of  the  supernatural  is  made 
here.  Ourrias  is  carried  to  the  bottom  of  the 
river  by  the  goblins  and  spirits  that  come  out 
and  hover  over  it  at  night.  There  is  a  certain 
terror  in  this  termination,  something  that  recalls 
parts  of  the  Inferno.  Ourrias's  superstitious 
fears  are  the  effect  of  his  guilty  conscience. 
The  souls  of  the  damned,  their  weird  ceremo- 
nial, are  but  the  outward  rendering  of  the 
inward  terror  he  feels. 

A  less  legitimate  use  of  the  supernatural 
is  made  in  the  succeeding  canto,  called  La 
Masco  (The  Witch).  In  fact,  the  canto  is 
really  a  blemish  in  the  beautiful  poem.  Vin- 
cen  is  found  unconscious  and  carried  to  the 
Mas  des  Micocoules,  and  various  remedies  tried. 
He  comes  to  himself,  but  the  wound  is  deemed 
too  serious  to  be  healed  by  natural  means, 
and  Mireio,  at  the  suggestion  of  one  of  her 
maiden  friends,  takes  Vincen  to  the  abode  of 
the  witch  who  lives  in  the  Fairies'  Hole  under 
the  rocks  of   Les  Baux.     Besides  the  obvious 


116  rR:feD]feRIC  MISTRAL 

objection  that  the  magic  cure  could  not  have 
been  made,  there  is  the  physical  impossibility  of 
Vincen's  having  walked,  in  his  dying  condi- 
tion, through  the  labyrinth  of  subterranean 
passages,  amid  the  wild  scenes  of  a  sort  of  Wal- 
purgis  night.  The  poet  was  doubtless  led  into 
this  error  by  his  desire  to  preserve  all  the 
legends  and  superstitious  lore  of  Provence. 
Possibly  he  was  led  astray  also  by  his  desire 
to  create  an  epic  poem,  in  which  a  visit  to 
the  lower  regions  is  a  necessity.  The  entire 
episode  is  impossible  and  uninteresting,  and 
is  a  blot  in  the  beautiful  idyll.  Later  on,  this 
desire  to  insert  the  supernatural  leads  the  poet 
to  interrupt  the  action  of  his  poem,  while  the 
three  Maries  relate  to  the  unconscious  Mireio 
at  great  length  the  story  of  their  coming  from 
Jerusalem  to  Provence.  Interesting  as  folk- 
lore, or  as  an  evidence  of  the  credulity  of  the 
Provengals,  this  narrative  of  the  three  Maries 
is  out  of  place  in  the  poem.  It  does  not  help 
us  out  to  suppose  that  Mireio  dreams  the  nar- 
rative, for  it  is  full  of  theology,  history,  and 
traditions  she  could  not  possibly  have  con- 
ceived. The  poem  of  Mireio  and  all  Mistral's 
work  suffer  from  this  desire  to  work  into  his 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  117 

poetry  all  the  history,  real  and  legendary,  of 
his  region. 

The  three  Maries  are  Mary  Magdalen,  Mary, 
the  mother  of  James  and  John,  and  Mary,  the 
mother  of  James  the  Less.  After  the  Cruci- 
fixion they  embark  with  Saint  Trophime,  and 
successfully  battling  with  the  storms  of  the 
sea,  they  land  finally  in  Provence,  and  by  a 
series  of  miracles  convert  the  people  of  Aries. 
This  canto  never  would  have  converted  Boileau 
from  his  disapproval  of  the  "  merveilleux  Chre- 
tien." 

The  poet  finds  his  true  inspiration  again  in 
the  life  of  the  Mas,  in  the  home-bringing  of 
the  crops,  in  the  gathering  of  the  workers 
about  the  table  of  Meste  Ramoun.  This  picture 
of  patriarchal  life  is  like  a  bit  out  of  an  ancient 
literature  ;  we  have  a  feeling  of  the  archaic,  of 
the  primitive,  we  are  amid  the  first  elements 
of  human  life,  where  none  of  the  complications 
of  the  modern  man  find  a  place.  Meste  Am- 
broi,  whom  Vincen  has  finally  persuaded  with 
passionate  entreaties  to  seek  the  hand  of  Mireio 
for  him,  comes  upon  this  evening  scene.  The 
interview  of  the  two  old  men  is  like  a  Greek 
play  ;  their  wisdom  and  experience  are  uttered 


118  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

in  stately,  sententious  language,  and  many  a 
proverb  falls  from  their  lips.  Ramoun  has 
inflexible  ideas  as  to  parental  authority  :  "  A 
father  is  a  father,  his  will  must  be  done. 
The  herd  that  leads  the  herdsman,  sooner  or 
later,  is  crunched  in  the  jaws  of  the  wolf.  If 
a  son  resisted  his  father  in  our  day,  the  father 
would  have  slain  him  perhaps  !  Therefore  the 
families  were  strong,  united,  sound,  resisting 
the  storm  like  a  line  of  plane  trees  !  Doubt- 
less they  had  their  quarrels,  as  we  know,  but 
when  Christmas  night,  beneath  its  starry  tent, 
brought  together  the  head  of  the  house  and  his 
descendants,  before  the  blessed  table,  before 
the  table  where  he  presided,  the  old  man,  with 
his  wrinkled  hand,  washed  it  all  away  with  his 
benediction  !  " 

But  Mireio  and  not  Meste  Ambroi  makes 
known  to  her  father  that  it  is  her  hand  Vincen 
seeks,  and  the  mother  and  father  break  out  in 
anger  against  the  maid.  Ramoun's  anger  leads 
him  to  speak  offensively  to  Meste  Ambroi,  who 
nobly  maintains  his  dignity  amid  his  poverty, 
and  recounts  his  services  to  his  country  that 
have  been  so  ill  repaid.  Ramoun  is  equally 
proud  of  his  wealth,  earned  by  the   sweat  of 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  119 

his  brow,  and  sternly  refuses.  The  other 
leaves,  and  then  the  harvesters  continue  their 
merry-making,  with  singing  and  farandoles, 
about  a  great  bonfire  in  honor  of  Saint  John. 
"  All  the  hills  were  aglow  as  if  stars  had  rained 
in  the  darkness,  and  the  mad  wind  carried  up 
the  incense  of  the  hills  and  the  red  gleam  of 
the  fires  toward  the  saint,  hovering  in  the  blue 
twilight." 

That  night  Mireio  grieved  and  wept  for 
Vincen,  and,  remembering  what  he  had  told 
her  of  the  three  Saint  Maries,  rises  before  the 
dawn  and  flees  away.  Her  journey  across  the 
Crau  and  the  island  of  Camargue  is  narrated 
with  numerous  details  and  descriptions  ;  they 
are  never  extraneous  to  the  action,  and  are  a 
constant  source  of  beauty  and  interest.  The 
strange,  barren  plain  of  the  Crau,  covered  with 
the  stones  that  once  destroyed  a  race  of  Giants, 
as  the  legend  has  it,  is  vividly  described,  as 
the  maiden  flies  across  it  in  the  ardent  rays 
of  the  June  sun.  She  stops  to  pray  to  a  saint 
that  he  send  her  a  draught  of  water,  and  im- 
mediately she  comes  upon  a  well.  Here  she 
meets  a  little  Arlesian  boy  who  tells  her  "in 
his  golden  speech"  of  the   glories  of  Aries. 


120  FRilDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

"  But,"  says  the  poet,  "  O  soft,  dark  city,  the 
child  forgot  to  tell  thy  supreme  wonder  ;  O 
fertile  land  of  Aries,  Heaven  gives  pure  beauty 
to  thy  daughters,  as  it  gives  grapes  to  the 
autumn,  and  perfumes  to  the  mountains  and 
wings  to  the  bird."  The  little  fellow  talks  of 
many  things  and  leads  her  to  his  home.  From 
here  the  fisherman  ferries  her  over  the  broad 
Rhone,  and  we  accompany  her  over  the  Ca- 
margue,  down  to  the  sea.  A  mirage  deceives 
her  for  a  time,  she  sees  the  town  and  church, 
but  it  soon  vanishes  in  air,  and  the  maiden 
hurries  on  in  the  fierce  heat. 

Her  prayer  in  the  chapel  is  written  in  an- 
other verse  form :  — 

O  Santi  Mario 
Que  poudes  en  flour 
Chanja  nosti  plour 
Clinas  Ifeu  I'auriho 
De-vers  ma  doulour  I " 

O  Holy  Maries,  who  can  change  our  tears  to  blossoms, 
incline  quickly  an  ear  unto  my  grief ! 

Before  the  prayer  is  ended,  there  begins  the 
vision  of  the  three  Maries,  descending  to  her 
from  Heaven. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  121 

Meste  Ramoun  discovers  the  flight  of  the 
unhappy  maiden,  and  with  all  his  family  starts 
in  pursuit.  After  the  first  outburst  of  grief,  he 
sends  out  a  messenger. 

"Let  the  mowers  and  the  ploughmen  leave 
the  scythes  and  the  ploughs !  Say  to  the  har- 
vesters to  throw  down  their  sickles,  bid  the 
shepherds  leave  their  flocks,  bid  them  come 
to  me!" 

The  boy  goes  out  into  the  fields,  among  the 
mowers  and  gleaners,  and  everywhere  solemnly 
delivers  his  message  in  the  selfsame  words. 
He  goes  down  to  the  Crau,  among  the  dwarf 
oaks,  and  summons  the  shepherds.  All  these 
toilers  gather  about  the  head  of  the  farm  and 
his  wife,  who  await  them  in  gloomy  silence. 
Meste  Ramoun,  without  making  clear  what 
misfortune  has  overtaken  him,  entreats  the  men 
to  tell  him  what  they  have  seen.  And  the 
chief  of  the  haymakers,  father  of  seven  sons, 
tells  of  an  evil  omen,  how,  for  the  first  time  in 
thirty  years,  at  the  beginning  of  his  day's  work, 
he  had  cut  himself.  The  parents  moan  the 
more.  Then  a  mower  from  Tarascon  tells  how 
as  he  began  his  work  he  had  discovered  a  nest 
wherein  the  young  birds  had  been   done  to 


128  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

death  by  a  myriad  of  invading  ants.  Again 
"  the  tale  of  woe  was  a  lance-thrust  for  the 
father  and  mother."  A  third  had  been  taken 
as  with  epilepsy,  a  shudder  had  passed  over 
him,  and  through  his  dishevelled  hair  as  through 
the  heads  of  thistles  he  had  felt  Death  pass  like 
a  wind.  A  fourth  had  seen  Mireio  just  before 
the  dawn,  and  had  heard  her  say,  "  Will  none 
among  the  shepherds  come  with  me  to  the  Holy 
Maries  ?  "  And  then  while  the  mother  laments, 
preparations  are  made  to  follow  the  maiden  to 
the  shrines  out  yonder  by  the  sea. 

This  poem,  then,  depicts  for  us  the  rustic  life 
of  Provence  in  all  its  outward  aspects.  The 
pretty  tale  and  the  description  of  the  life  of  the 
Mas  and  of  the  Provengal  landscapes  are  insepa- 
rably woven  together,  forming  an  harmonious 
whole.  It  is  not  a  tragedy,  all  the  characters 
are  too  utterly  lacking  in  depth.  Vincen  and 
Mireio  are  but  a  boy  and  a  girl,  children  just 
awakening  to  life.  The  reader  may  be  re- 
minded of  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  of  Gabriel 
and  Evangeline,  but  the  creations  of  the  German 
and  the  American  poet  are  greatly  superior  in 
all  that  represents  study  of  the  human  mind 
and  heart. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  123 

Goethe's  poem  and  Mistral's  have  several 
points  of  likeness.  Hermann  seeks  to  marry 
against  his  father's  wish,  and  the  objection  is 
the  poverty  of  Dorothea.  The  case  is  merely  in- 
verted. Both  poems  imitate  the  Homeric  style, 
Goethe's  more  palpably  than  Mistral's,  since  the 
German  poet  has  adopted  the  Homeric  verse. 
He  affects,  also,  certain  recurring  terms  of  ex- 
pression, "Also  sprach  sie"  and  the  like,  and 
there  is  a  rather  artificial  seeking  after  sim- 
plicity of  expression.  Goethe's  poem  is  more 
interesting  because  of  the  greater  solidity  of 
the  characters,  and  because  of  the  more  closely 
knitted  plot.  The  curiosity  of  the  reader  is 
kept  roused  as  in  a  well-constructed  romance. 
Mistral's  poem  has,  after  all,  scarcely  any  more 
real  local  color;  the  rustic  life  of  the  two 
poems  is  similar,  allowing  for  geographical 
differences,  and  we  carry  away  quite  as  real  a 
picture  of  Hermann's  home  and  the  fields  about 
it  as  of  the  Mas  of  Meste  Ramoun.  Mistral's 
idyll  terminates  tragically  in  that  Mireio  dies 
of  sunstroke,  leaving  her  lover  to  mourn,  but 
the  tenor  of  the  German  poem  is  more  serious 
and  moves  us  more  deeply ;  the  background  of 
war  contributes  to  this,  but  the  source  of  our 


124  FRto^RIC  MISTRAL 

emotion  is  in  the  deep  seriousness  of  the  char- 
acters themselves. 

Vincen  and  Mireio  are  charming  in  their 
naivete,  they  are  unspoiled  and  unreflecting. 
They  are  children,  and  lacking  in  well-defined 
personality.  They  have  no  knowledge  of  any- 
thing beyond  the  customs  and  superstitions  of 
the  simple  folk  about  them.  Their  religion, 
which  is  so  continually  before  us,  furnishing 
the  very  mainspring  of  the  fatal  denouement, 
is  of  the  most  superficial  sort,  if  it  can  be  called 
religion  at  all.  Whether  you  are  bitten  by  a 
dog,  a  wolf,  or  a  snake,  or  lose  your  eyesight, 
or  are  in  danger  of  losing  your  lover,  you  run 
to  the  shrine  of  some  saint  for  help.  The  re- 
ligious feeling  really  runs  no  deeper.  In  his 
outburst  of  grief  upon  seeing  Mireio  prone  upon 
the  floor  of  the  chapel,  the  unhappy  boy  asks 
what  he  has  done  to  merit  such  a  blow.  "  Has 
he  lit  his  pipe  in  a  church  at  the  lamp?  or 
dragged  the  crucifix  among  thistles,  like  the 
Jews  ?  "  Of  the  deeper,  nobler  consolations  of 
religion,  of  the  problems  of  human  destiny,  of 
the  relations  of  religious  conviction  to  human 
conduct,  there  is  no  inkling. 

All  the  characters  are  equally  on  the  surface. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  125 

They  are  types  rather  than  individuals.  They 
have  in  common  the  gift  of  eloquence.  They 
have  no  thought-life,  no  meditation.  They  are 
eminently  sociable,  frequently  loquacious. 
They  make  you  think  of  Daudet's  statement 
concerning  the  man  of  the  south,  "When  he 
is  not  talking,  he  is  not  thinking."  But  they 
talk  well,  and  have  to  an  eminent  degree  the 
gift  of  narrative.  Vinc^n's  stories  of  what  he 
knows  and  has  seen  are  told  most  beautifully, 
and  the  poet  never  forgets  himself  by  making 
the  boy  utter  thoughts  he  could  not  have  con- 
ceived. The  boy  is  merely  a  child  of  his  race. 
In  any  rustic  gathering  in  southern  France  you 
may  hear  a  man  of  the  people  speak  dramati- 
cally and  thrillingly,  with  resonant  voice  and 
vivid  gestures,  with  a  marvellous  power  of 
mimicry,  and  the  faces  of  the  listeners  reflect 
all  the  emotions  of  the  speaker.  The  numerous 
scenes,  therefore,  wherein  a  group  of  listeners 
follow  with  keenest  interest  a  tale  that  is  told, 
are  eminently  true  to  life.  The  supreme  merit 
of  Mirdio  lies  in  this  power  of  narration  that  its 
author  possesses.  It  is  all  action  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  and  even  the  digressions  and  epi- 
sodes, which  occasionally  arrest  the  flow  of  the 


126  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

narrative,  are  in  themselves  admirable  pieces  of 
narrative.  Most  critics  have  found  fault  with 
these  episodes  and  the  frequent  insertion  of 
legends.  In  defence  of  the  author,  it  may  be 
said,  that  he  must  have  feared  while  writing 
Mireio  that  it  might  be  his  last  and  only  oppor- 
tunity to  address  his  countrymen  in  their  own 
dialect,  and  in  his  desire  to  bring  them  back  to 
a  love  of  the  traditions  of  Provence,  he  yielded 
to  the  temptation  to  crowd  his  poem  rather 
more  than  he  would  otherwise  have  done. 

Mireio,  then,  is  a  lovely  poem,  an  idyll,  a 
charming,  vivid  picture  of  life  in  the  rural  parts 
of  the  Rhone  region.  It  is  singularly  original. 
Local  color  is  its  very  essence.  Its  thought 
and  action  are  strictly  circumscribed  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  Crau  and  the  Camargue,  and 
its  originality  consists  in  this  limitation,  in  the 
fact  that  a  poet  of  this  century  has  written  a 
work  that  comes  within  the  definition  of  an 
epic,  with  all  the  primitive  simplicity  of  Bibli- 
cal or  Classic  writers,  without  any  agitation  of 
the  problems  of  modern  life,  without  any  new 
thought  or  feeling  concerning  love  or  death,  or 
man's  relation  to  the  universe,  using  a  dialect 
unknown  at   the  time   beyond  the   region  de- 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  127 

scribed.  Its  success  could  scarcely  have  been 
attained  without  the  poet's  masterly  prose  trans- 
lation, and  yet  it  is  evident  that  the  poem  could 
not  have  been  conceived  and  carried  out  in 
French  verse.  The  freshness,  the  artlessness, 
the  lack  of  modernity,  would  have  suffered  if 
the  poet  had  bent  his  inspiration  to  the  offi- 
cial language.  Using  a  new  idiom,  wherein 
he  practically  had  no  predecessor,  he  was  free 
to  create  expression  as  he  went  along,  and  was 
not  compelled  to  cast  his  thought  in  existing 
moulds. 

The  poem  cannot  place  its  author  among  the 
very  great  poets  of  the  world,  if  only  because 
of  this  limitation.  It  lacks  the  breadth  and 
depth,  the  everlasting  interest.  But  it  is  a 
work  of  great  beauty,  of  wonderful  purity,  a 
sweet  story,  told  in  lovely,  limpid  language, 
and  will  cause  many  eyes  to  turn  awhile  from 
other  lands  to  the  sunny  landscapes  of  southern 
France. 

II.  Calendau.   (Calbndal.) 

Mistral  spent  seven  years  in  elaborating  his 
second  epic,  as  he  did  in  writing  his  first.  The 
poem  had  not  a  popular  success,  and  the  reason 


128  FRfiDfiRIC  MISTRAL 

is  not  far  to  seek.  The  most  striking  limita- 
tion of  the  poet  is  his  failure  to  create  beings 
of  flesh  and  blood.  Even  in  Mireio  this  lack 
of  well-defined  individuality  in  the  characters 
begins  to  be  apparent,  but,  in  general,  the 
action  of  the  earlier  poem  is  confined  to  the 
world  of  realities,  whereas  in  Calendau  the  poet 
has  given  free  play  to  a  brilliant  and  vivid 
imagination,  launching  forth  into  the  heroic 
and  incredible,  yet  without  abandoning  the 
world  of  real  time  and  real  places.  Allegory 
and  symbolism  are  the  web  and  woof  of  Cal- 
endau. The  poem,  again,  is  overburdened  with 
minute  historic  details  and  descriptions,  which 
are  greatly  magnified  in  the  eye  of  his  imagina- 
tion. A  poet,  of  course,  must  be  pardoned  for 
this  want  of  a  sense  of  proportion,  but  even  a 
Provengal  reader  cannot  be  kept  in  constant 
illusion  as  to  the  greatness  of  little  places  that 
can  scarcely  be  found  upon  the  map,  or  dazzled 
by  the  magnificence  of  achievements  that  really 
have  left  little  or  no  impress  upon  the  history 
of  the  world.  As  we  follow  the  poet's  work  in 
its  chronological  development,  we  find  this  trait 
growing  more  and  more  pronounced.  He  sees 
his  beloved  Provence,  its  past  and  present,  and 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  129 

its  future,  too,  in  a  magnifying  mirror  that 
embellishes  all  it  reflects  with  splendid,  glow- 
ing colors,  and  exalts  little  figures  to  colos- 
sal proportions.  The  reader  falls  easily  under 
the  spell  of  this  exuberant  enthusiasm  and 
is  charmed  by  the  poetic  power  evinced.  The 
wealth  of  words,  the  beauty  of  the  imagery 
with  which,  for  example,  the  humble,  well-nigh 
unknown  little  port  of  Cassis  and  its  fishing 
industry  are  described,  carry  us  along  and  hold 
us  in  momentary  illusion.  We  see  them  in  the 
poet's  magic  mirror  for  the  time.  To  the 
traveller  or  the  sober  historian  all  these  things 
appear  very,  very  different. 

With  the  Felibres  the  success  of  the  poem 
was  much  greater;  it  is  a  kind  of  patriotic 
hymn,  a  glorification  of  the  past  of  Provence, 
and  a  song  of  hope  for  its  future.  Its  allegory, 
its  learned  literary  allusions,  its  delving  into 
obscure  historic  events,  preclude  any  hope  of 
popular  success. 

Like  Mireio,  the  poem  is  divided  into  twelve 
cantos,  and  the  form  of  stanza  employed  is  the 
same.  The  heroic  tone  of  the  poem  might  be 
thought  to  have  required  verse  of  greater  state- 
liness;    the  recurrence  of   the  three   feminine 


130  FR^DfeRIC   MISTRAL 

rhymes  in  the  shorter  verses  often  seems  too 
pretty.  Like  Mireio,  the  poem  has  the  outward 
marks  of  an  epic.  Unlike  Mireio,  it  reminds  us 
frequently  of  the  Chansons  de  geste,  and  we  see 
that  the  author  has  been  living  in  the  world  of 
the  Old  Provengal  poets.  This  is  apparent  not 
merely  in  the  constant  allusions,  in  the  repro- 
ductions of  episodes,  but  in  the  manner  in 
which  the  narrative  moves  along.  Lamartine 
would  not  have  been  reminded  of  the  ancient 
Greek  poets  had  Calendau  preceded  Mireio. 
The  conception  of  courtly  love,  the  guiding, 
elevating  inspiration  of  Beatrice,  leading  Dante 
on  to  greater,  higher,  more  spiritual  things,  are 
the  sources  of  the  chief  ideas  contained  in  Cal- 
endau. Vinc^n  and  Mireio  remain  throughout 
the  simple  youth  and  maiden  they  were,  but 
Calendau,  "  the  simple  fisherman  of  Cassis,"  de- 
velops into  a  great  hero,  performing  Herculean 
tasks,  like  a  knight  of  the  days  of  chivalry,  and 
rises  higher  and  higher  until  he  wins  "the 
empire  of  pure  love  " — his  lady's  hand. 

Very  beautiful  is  the  invocation  addressed  to 
the  "  soul  of  his  country  that  radiates,  manifest 
in  its  language  and  in  its  history  —  that 
through  the   greatness  of  its  memories  saves 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  131 

hope  for  him."  It  is  the  spirit  that  inspired 
the  sweet  Troubadours,  and  set  the  voice  of 
Mirabeau  thundering  like  the  mistral.  The 
poet  proclaims  his  belief  in  his  race.  "  For  the 
waves  of  the  ages  and  their  storms  and  horrors 
mingle  the  nations  and  wipe  out  frontiers  in 
vain.  Mother  Earth,  Nature,  ever  feeds  her 
sons  with  the  same  milk,  her  hard  breast  will 
ever  give  the  fine  oil  to  the  olive ;  Spirit,  ever 
springing  into  life,  joyous,  proud,  and  living 
spirit  that  neighest  in  the  noise  of  the  Rhone 
and  in  the  wind  thereof  !  spirit  of  the  harmo- 
nious woods,  and  of  the  sunny  bays,  pious  soul 
of  the  fatherland,  I  call  thee  !  be  incarnate  in 
my  Provengal  verse  !  " 

We  are  plunged  in  orthodox  fashion  in 
medias  res.  The  young  fisherman  is  seated 
upon  the  rocky  heights  above  the  sea  before  the 
beautiful  woman  he  loves.  He  does  not  know 
who  she  is;  he  has  performed  almost  super- 
human exploits  to  win  her  ;  but  there  is  an 
obstacle  to  their  union.  She  relates  that  she  is 
the  last  of  the  family  of  the  Princes  des  Baux, 
who  had  their  castle  and  city  hewn  out  of  the 
solid  rock  in  the  strange  mountains  that  over- 
look the  plain  of  Aries.      She  tells  the  mar- 


132  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

vellous  history  of  the  family,  evoking  a  vision 
of  the  days  of  courtly  love  when  the  Trouba- 
dours sang  at  the  feet  of  the  fair  princesses.  A 
panorama  of  the  life  of  those  days  of  poetry  and 
song  moves  before  us.  The  princess  even  de- 
scribes and  defines  in  poetic  language  the  forms 
of  verse  in  vogue  in  the  ancient  days,  the  Ten- 
8on,  the  Pastoral,  the  Ballad,  the  SirventSs,  the 
Romance,  the  CongS,  the  Auhade,  the  Solace  of 
Love.  She  relates  her  marriage  with  the  Count 
Severan,  who  fascinated  her  by  some  mysterious 
power.  At  the  wedding-feast  she  learns  that 
he  is  a  mere  bandit,  leader  of  a  band  of  rob- 
bers that  infests  the  country.  She  fled  away 
through  the  mountains  and  found  the  grotto 
where  she  now  lives.  The  fishermen,  seeing 
her  appear  and  vanish  among  the  cliffs,  take 
her  to  be  the  fairy  Esterello,  who  is  a  sort  of 
Loreley.  Calendau  determines  that  either 
Severan  or  he  shall  die,  and  seeks  him  out. 
His  splendid  physical  appearance  and  bold,  de- 
fiant manner  arouse  in  the  bandit  a  desire  to  get 
Calendau  to  join  his  company,  and  the  women 
of  the  band  are  charmed  with  him.  They  ask 
to  hear  the  story  'of  his  life,  and  the  great 
body  of  the  poem  consists  of  the  narrative  by 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  138 

Calendau  of  his  exploits.  After  the  last  one 
Calendau  has  risen  to  the  loftiest  conception  of 
pure  love  through  the  guidance  of  Esterello, 
like  Dante  inspired  by  Beatrice.  Then  the 
Count  holds  an  orgy  and  tries  to  tempt  the 
virtue  of  the  hero.  Calendau,  after  witnessing 
the  lascivious  dances,  challenges  the  Count  to 
mortal  combat.  The  latter  knows  now  who  he 
is,  and  that  Esterello  is  none  other  than  the 
bride  who  fled  after  the  marriage-feast.  Cal- 
endau is  overpowered  and  imprisoned,  and  the 
Count  and  his  men  set  off  in  search  of  Este- 
rello. But  Calendau  is  freed  by  Fourtuneto, 
one  of  the  women,  and  journeys  by  sea  from 
Cannes  to  Cassis  to  defend  the  Princess.  Here 
a  great  combat  takes  place  with  the  Count,  who 
fires  the  pine-woods  and  perishes  miserably, 
uttering  blasphemous  imprecations.  The  Cas- 
sidians  fight  the  fire,  and  Calendau  and  the 
blond  Princess  are  saved. 

"The  applause  of  two  thousand  souls  sa- 
lutes them  and  acclaims  them.  '  Calendau, 
Calendau,  let  us  plant  the  May  for  the  con- 
queror of  Esterello.  He  glorifies,  he  brings  to 
the  light  our  little  harbor  of  fishermen,  let  us 
make  him  Consul,  Consul  for  life!  '     So  saying 


134  FR^DfiRIC  MISTRAL 

the  multitude  accompanies  the  generous,  happy 
pair  of  lovers,  and  the  sun  that  God  rules,  the 
great  sun,  rises,  illumines,  and  procreates  end- 
lessly new  enthusiasms,  new  lovers." 

The  poem  clearly  symbolizes  the  Provencal 
renascence;  Calendau  typifies  the  modern  Pro- 
vengal  people,  rising  to  an  ideal  life  and  great 
achievements  through  the  memory  of  their  tra- 
ditions, and  this  ideal,  this  memory,  are  per- 
sonified in  the  person  of  the  beautiful  Princess. 

The  time  of  the  action  is  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, before  the  Revolution.  This  is  a  delib- 
erate choice  of  the  poet  who  has  a  temporal 
symbolism  in  mind.  "  I  shall  thus  combine  in 
my  picture  the  three  aspects  of  Provence  on  the 
eve  of  the  Revolution:  in  the  background,  the 
noble  legends  of  the  past ;  in  the  foreground 
the  social  corruption  of  the  evil  days;  and 
before  us  the  better  future,  the  future  and  the 
reparation  personified  in  the  son  of  the  work- 
ing classes,  guardians  of  the  tradition  of  the 
country." 

As  regards  the  execution,  it  is  masterly,  and 
cannot  be  ranked  below  Mir  Ho.  There  is  the 
same  enthusiastic  love  of  nature,  the  same  as- 
tonishing   resources   of    expression,   the   same 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  135 

novelty  and  originality.  In  place  of  the  rustic 
nature  of  Mireio,  we  have  the  wild  grandeur  of 
mountains  and  sea.  There  is  the  same,  nay, 
even  greater,  eloquence  of  the  speakers,  the 
same  musical  verse. 

"  Car,  d'aquesto  ouro,  ounto  es  la  raro 

Que  di  delice  nous  separo, 
Jouine,  amourous  que  siam,  libre  coume  d'aucfeu? 

Regardo :  la  Nature  brulo 

A  noste  entour,  e  se  barrulo 

Dins  li  bras  de  I'Estieu,  e  chulo 
Lou  devourant  alen  de  soun  nove  roussfeu. 

"  Li  serre  clar  e  blu,  11  colo 
Palo  de  la  calour  e  molo, 

Boulegon  trefouli  si  mourre  ...     Ve  la  mar : 
Courouso  e  lindo  courao  un  vhhe, 
D6u  grand  souleu  i  rai  bevfeire 
Enjusqu'au  founs  se  laisso  veire, 

Se  laisso  coutiga  per  lou  Rose  e  lou  Var." 

"  For  now,  where  is  the  limit  that  separates 
us  from  joy,  young,  amorous  as  we  are,  free  as 
birds  !  Look:  Nature  burns  around  us  and 
rolls  in  the  arms  of  Summer,  and  drinks  in  the 
devouring  breath  of  her  ruddy  spouse.  The 
clear,  blue  peaks,  the  hills,  pale  and  soft  with 
the  heat,  are  thrilled  and  stir  their  rounding 
summits.     Behold  the  sea,  glistening  and  lim- 


136  frI:dI3ric  mistral 

pid  as  glass;  in  the  thirsty  rays  of  the  great 
sun,  she  allows  herself  to  be  seen  clear  to  the 
bottom,  to  be  caressed  by  the  Rhone  and  the 
Var." 

These  are  the  words  of  Calendau  when,  seek- 
ing his  reward  after  his  final  exploit,  he  learns 
that  he  has  won  the  love  of  Esterello.  The 
poet  never  goes  further  in  the  voluptuous 
strain,  and  the  mere  music  of  the  words,  espe- 
cially beginning  "Ve  la  mar"  is  exquisite. 
They  are  found  in  the  first  canto.  This  scene 
wherein  the  Princess  refuses  to  wed  Calendau 
is  typical  of  the  poet.  The  northern  tem- 
perament is  not  impressed  with  these  long 
tirades,  full  of  ejaculations  and  apostrophes; 
they  are  apt  to  seem  unnatural,  insincere,  and 
theatrical.  Intense  feeling  is  not  so  verbose  in 
the  north.  In  this  particular  Mistral  is  true  to 
his  race.  We  quote  entire  the  words  of  Calen- 
dau after  the  refusal  of  Esterello,  itself  full 
exclamation  and  apostrophizing  :  — 

"  Then  I  have  but  won  the  thirst,  the  weari- 
ness of  the  midshipman,  when  he  is  about  to 
reach  the  summit  of  the  mainmast,  and  sees 
gleaming  at  the  limit  of  the  liquid  plain  naught 
but  water,  water  eternally  I     Well,  if  thou  wilt 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  137 

hear  it,  listen  I  and  let  the  heath  resound  with 
it!  It  is  thou,  false  woman  that  thou  art,  it  is 
thou  that  hast  deceived  me,  luring  me  on  to 
believe  that  at  the  summit  of  the  peaks  I  should 
find  the  splendor  of  a  sublime  dawn,  that  after 
winter  spring  would  come,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing so  good  as  the  food  earned  by  labor.  Thou 
hast  deceived  me,  for  in  the  wilderness  I  found 
naught  but  drought;  and  the  wind  of  this 
world  and  its  idle  noise,  the  embarrassment  of 
luxury,  and  the  din  of  glory,  and  what  is  called 
the  enjoyment  of  triumph,  are  not  worth  a 
little  hour  of  love  beneath  a  pine  tree!  See, 
from  my  hand  the  bridle  escapes,  my  skull  is 
bursting,  and  I  am  not  sure  now  that  the  people 
in  their  fear  are  not  right  in  dreading  thee  like 
a  ghost,  now  that  I  feel,  as  my  reward,  thy 
burning  poison  streaming  through  my  heart. 
Yes,  thou  art  the  fairy  Esterello,  and  thou  art 
unmasked  at  last,  cruel  creature !  In  the  chill 
of  thy  refusal  I  have  known  the  viper.  Thou 
art  Esterello,  bitter  foe  to  man,  haunting  the 
wild  places,  crowned  with  nettles,  defending 
the  desert  against  those  who  clear  the  land. 
Thou  art  Esterello,  the  fairy  that  sends  a  shud- 
der through  the  foliage  of  the  woods  and  the 


138  FR]fcD6RIC  MISTRAL 

hair  of  the  terrified  hermit;  that  fires  with  the 
desire  of  her  perfumed  embrace  her  suitors  and 
in  malevolence  drives  them  to  despair  with 
infernal  longings. 

"My  head  is  bursting,  and  since  from  the 
heights  of  my  supernatural  love  a  thunderbolt 
thus  hurls  me  down,  since,  nothing,  nothing 
henceforth,  from  this  moment  on,  can  give  me 
joy,  since,  cruel  woman,  when  thou  couldst 
throw  me  a  rope,  thou  leavest  me,  in  dismay,  to 
drink  the  bitter  current  —  let  death  come,  black 
hiding-place,  bottomless  abyss!  let  me  plunge 
down  head  first !  " 

And  when  Esterello,  fearing  he  will  slay 
himself,  clasps  him  about  the  neck,  they  stand 
silently  embraced,  "the  tears,  in  tender  min- 
gling, rain  from  their  eyes;  despair,  agitation, 
a  spell  of  happiness,  keep  their  lips  idle,  and 
from  hell,  at  one  bound,  they  rise  to  para- 
dise." 

Like  the  creations  of  Victor  Hugo's  poetry, 
those  of  Mistral  speak  the  language  of  the 
author.  They  have  his  eloquence,  his  violent 
energy  of  figurative  speech,  his  love  of  the  wild, 
sunny  landscapes  about  them;  they  thrill  as  he 
does,  at  the  memories  of  the  past ;  they  love,  as 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  139 

he  does,  enumerations  of  trees  and  plants;  they 
have  his  fondness  for  action. 

The  poem  is  filled  with  interesting  episodes. 
One  that  is  very  striking  in  the  narrative  of 
Esterello  we  shall  here  reproduce. 

We  are  at  the  wedding  feast  of  Count  Seve- 
ran  and  the  Princess  des  Baux.  The  merry- 
making begins  to  be  riotous,  and  the  Count  has 
made  a  speech  in  honor  of  his  bride,  promising 
to  take  her  after  the  melting  of  the  snows  to  his 
Alpine  palaces,  where  the  walls  are  of  steel,  the 
doors  of  silver,  the  locks  of  gold,  and  when  the 
sun  shines  their  crystal  roofs  glitter  like  flame. 

"  Scarcely  from  his  lips  had  fallen  these  wild 
words,  when  the  door  of  the  banquet  hall  opens, 
and  we  see  the  head  of  an  old  man,  wearing  a 
bonnet  and  a  garment  of  rough  cloth;  we  see 
the  dust  and  sweat  trickling  down  his  tanned 
cheeks.  The  bridegroom,  with  a  terrible 
glance,  like  the  lightning  flash  of  a  fearful 
storm,  turns  suddenly  pale,  and  seeks  to  stop 
him;  but  he,  whom  the  glance  cannot  harm, 
calmly,  impassively,  like  God  when  he  clothes 
himself  like  a  poor  man,  to  confound  sometimes 
some  rich  evil-doer,  slowly  advances  toward 
the  bridegroom,   crosses  his  arms,  and  scans 


140  FRl:D:fcRIC  MISTRAL 

his  countenance.  And  he  says  not  a  word 
to  any  one,  and  all  are  afraid;  a  weight  of 
lead  lies  upon  every  heart,  and  from  without 
there  seems  to  blow  in  upon  the  lamps  an  icy 
wind. 

"Finally,  a  few  of  them,  shaking  off  their 
oppression,  '  If  there  come  not  soon  a  famine  to 
wipe  out  this  hideous  tribe,  we  shall  be  eaten 
by  beggars  within  four  days!  To  the  merry 
bridal  pair,  what  hast  thou  to  say,  old  scullion? ' 
And  they  continue  to  taunt  him  cruelly.  The 
outraged  peasant  holds  his  peace.  'With  his 
blear  eyes,  his  white  pate,  his  limping  leg, 
whither  comes  he  trudging?  Pelican,  bird  of 
ill  omen,  go  to  thy  hole  and  hide  thy  sorry 
face.'  The  stranger  swallows  their  insults, 
and  casts  toward  the  bridegroom  a  beseeching 
glance. 

"But  others  cry:  'Come  on,  old  man,  come  on! 
Come  on,  fear  not  the  company,  the  laughing 
and  joking  of  these  pretty  gentlemen.  Hunt 
about  the  tables  for  the  dainties  and  the  car- 
casses. Hast  thou  a  good  jaw  ?  Here,  catch 
this  piece  of  pork  and  toss  off  a  glass  of 
wine!' 

" '  No,'  at  length  comes  an  answer  from  the 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  141 

old  man,  in  a  tone  of  deep  sadness,  '  gentlemen, 
I  do  not  beg,  and  have  never  desired  what 
others  leave:  I  seek  my  son.'  —  'His  son! 
What  is  he  saying  —  the  son  of  this  seller 
of  eelskins  hovering  about  the  Baroness  of 
Aiglun  ? ' 

"And  they  look  at  each  other  in  doubt,  in 
burning  scorn.  I  listened.  Then  they  said: 
'Where  is  thy  son?  Show  thy  son,  come  on! 
and  beware.  If,  to  mock  us,  thou  lie,  wretch, 
at  the  highest  gargoyle  of  the  towers  of  Aiglun, 
without  mercy,  we'll  hang  thee! ' 

" '  Well,  since  I  am  disowned,  and  relegated 
to  the  sweepings,'  the  old  man  begins,  draped 
in  his  sayon^  and  with  a  majesty  that  frightens 
us,  '  you  shall  hear  the  crow  sing ! '  Then  the 
Count,  turning  the  color  of  the  wall,  cold  as  a 
bench  of  stone,  said,  'Varlets,  here,  cast  out 
this  dismal  phantom ! '  Two  tears  of  fire,  that 
pierced  the  ground,  and  that  I  still  see  shining, 
streamed  down  the  countenance  of  the  poor  old 
man,  ah!  so  bitter,  that  we  all  became  white  as 
shrouds. 

" '  Like  Death,  I  come  where  I  am  forgotten, 
without  summons.  I  am  wrong ! '  broke  out 
the  unhappy  man,  'but  I  wished  to  see  my 


142  FRi:D:fcRIC  MISTRAL 

daughter-in-law.  Come  on,  cast  out  this  dis- 
mal phantom,  who  is,  however,  thy  father,  O 
splendid  bridegroom ! ' 

"I  uttered  a  cry;  all  the  guests  rose  from  their 
chairs.  But  the  relentless  old  man  went  on : 
'  My  lords,  to  tear  from  the  evil  fruit  its  whole 
covering,  I  have  but  two  words  to  say.  Be 
seated,  for  I  still  see  on  the  table  dishes  not  yet 
eaten.' 

"Standing  like  palings,  silent,  anxious,  the 
guests  remained  with  hearts  scarce  beating.  I 
trembled,  my  eyes  in  mist.  We  were  like  the 
dead  of  the  churchyard  about  some  funeral 
feast,  full  of  terror  and  mystery.  The  Count 
grinned  sardonically. 

" '  Thou  shalt  run  in  vain,  wretch,'  said  the 
venerable  father,  'the  vengeance  of  God  will 
surely  reach  thee  !  To-day  thou  makest  me 
bow  my  head ;  but  thy  bride,  if  she  have  some 
honor,  will  presently  flee  from  thee  as  from  the 
pest,  for  thou  shalt  some  day  hang,  accursed  of 
God  ! '  I  rush  to  the  arms  of  my  father-in-law. 
'  Stop,  stop ; '  but  he,  leaning  down  to  my  ear, 
said :  '  Without  knowing  the  vine  or  measuring 
the  furrows,  thou  hast  bought  the  wine,  mad 
girl !     Go,  thou  didst  not  weep  all  thy  tears  in 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  143 

thy  swaddling  clothes  !  Knowest  thou  whom 
thou  hast  ?   a  robber-chief  ! ' " 

And  the  scene  continues,  weirdly  dramatic, 
like  some  old  romantic  tale  of  feudal  days. 
Such  scenes  of  gloom  and  terror  are  not  fre- 
quent in  Mistral.  This  one  is  probably  the 
best  of  its  kind  he  has  attempted. 

On  his  way  to  seek  Count  Severan  in  his 
fastness,  Calendau  "  enters,  awestruck,  into  the 
stupendous  valley,  deep,  frowning,  cold,  satur- 
nine, and  fierce ;  the  daylight  darts  into  this 
enclosure  an  instant  upon  the  viper  and  the 
lizard,  then,  behind  the  jagged  peaks,  it  van- 
ishes. The  Esteron  rolls  below.  Now,  Calen- 
dau feels  a  shudder  in  his  soul,  and  winds  his 
horn.  The  call  resounds  in  the  depths  of  the 
gorges.  It  seems  as  though  he  calls  to  his  aid 
the  spirits  of  the  place.  And  he  thinks  of  the 
paladin  dying  at  Roncevaux." 

For  the  sake  of  greater  completeness,  we 
summarize  briefly  the  exploits  of  the  hero.  As 
has  been  stated,  they  compose  the  great  body  of 
the  poem,  and  are  narrated  by  him  to  the  Count 
and  his  company  of  thieves  and  women.  The 
narrative  begins  with  the  account  of  the  little 
port  of  Cassis,  his  native  place;   and  one  of 


144  FR^DifeRIC   MISTRAL 

the  stanzas  is  a  setting  for  the  surprising  prov- 
erb:— 

"  Tau  qu'a  vist  Paris, 
Se  noun  a  vist  Cassis, 
Pou  dire :  N'ai  ren  vist! " 

He  who  has  seen  Paris,  and  has  not  seen  Cassis,  may 
say,  "  I  have  seen  nothing." 

No  less  than  forty  stanzas  are  taken  up  with 
the  wonders  of  Cassis,  and  more  than  half  of 
those  are  devoted  to  naming  the  fish  the  Cas- 
sidians  catch.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  other 
than  Provengal  readers  and  students  of  natural 
history  will  fail  to  share  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
poet  here.  Calendau's  father  used  to  read  out 
of  an  ancient  book ;  and  the  hero  recounts  the 
history  of  Provence,  going  back  to  the  times  of 
the  Ligurians,  telling  us  of  the  coming  of  the 
Greeks,  who  brought  the  art  of  sculpture  for 
the  future  Puget.  We  hear  of  the  founding 
of  Marseilles,  the  days  of  Diana  and  Apollo, 
followed  by  the  coming  of  the  Romans.  The 
victory  of  Caius  Marius  is  celebrated,  the  con- 
quest of  Julius  Caesar  deplored.  We  learn  of 
the  introduction  of  Christianity.  We  come 
down  to  the  glorious  days  of  Raymond  of 
Toulouse. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  145 

"  And  enraptured  to  be  free,  young,  robust, 
happy  in  the  joy  of  living,  in  those  days  a 
whole  people  was  seen  at  the  feet  of  Beauty ; 
and  singing  blame  or  praises  a  hundred  Trou- 
badours flourished;  and  from  its  cradle,  amid 
vicissitudes,  Europe  smiled  upon  our  merry 
singing." 

"  O  flowers,  ye  came  too  soon !  Nation  in 
bloom,  the  sword  cut  down  thy  blossoming ! 
Bright  sun  of  the  south,  thou  shonest  too 
powerfully,  and  the  thunder-storms  gathered. 
Dethroned,  made  barefoot,  and  gagged,  the 
Proven9al  language,  proud,  however,  as  before, 
went  off  to  live  among  the  shepherds  and  the 
sailors." 

"Language  of  love,  if  there  are  fools  and 
bastards,  ah!  by  Saint  Cyr,  thou  shalt  have 
the  men  of  the  land  upon  thy  side,  and  as  long 
as  the  fierce  mistral  shall  roar  in  the  rocks,  sen- 
sitive to  an  insult  offered  thee,  we  shall  defend 
thee  with  red  cannon-balls,  for  thou  art  the 
fatherland,  and  thou  art  freedom  !  " 

This  love  of  the  language  itself  pervades 
all  the  work  of  our  poet,  but  rarely  has  he 
expressed  it  more  energetically,  not  to  say 
violently,  than  here. 


146  FRiJD^RIC   MISTRAL 

Calendau  reaches  the  point  where  he  first 
catches  a  glimpse  of  the  Princess.  He  tells  of 
the  legends  concerning  the  fairy  Esterello,  and 
of  the  Fada  (Les  Enfees).  This  last  is  a  name 
given  to  idiots  or  to  the  insane,  who  are  sup- 
posed to  have  come  under  her  spell. 

"  E  degun  auso 
Se  truf  a  d'eli,  car  an  quicon  de  sacra  I  " 

And  none  dares  mock  them,  for  they  have  in  them 
something  sacred. 

The  fisherman  makes  many  attempts  to  find 
her  again,  and  at  last  succeeds.  She  haughtily 
dismisses  his  suit. 

"Vai,  noun  sies  proun  famous,  ni  proun  fort,  ni  proun 
fin." 

Go,  thou  art  not  famous  enough,  nor  strong  enough, 
nor  fine  enough. 

He  realizes  her  great  superiority,  and,  after 
a  time  of  deep  discouragement,  rouses  himself 
and  sets  about  to  deserve  and  win  her  by  deeds 
of  daring,  by  making  a  great  name  for  himself. 

His  first  idea  is  to  seek  wealth,  so  he 
builds  a  great  boat  and  captures  twelve  hun- 
dred tunny  fish.  The  fishing  scenes  are  de- 
picted with  all  the  glow  of  fancy  and  brilliant 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  147 

word-painting  for  which  Mistral  is  so  remark- 
able. Calendau  is  now  rich,  and  brings  jewels 
to  his  lady.  She  haughtily  refuses  them,  and 
the  fisherman  throws  them  away. 

« — Eh !  bfen,  i^  fau,  d'abord,  ingrato, 

Que  toun  cor  dur  ansin  me  trato 

E  que  de  mi  present  noun  t'enchau  mai  qu'  ac6, 

Vagon  au  Diable !  —  E  li  bandisse 

Pataflbu !  dins  lou  precepice."  .  .  . 

"  Well,"  said  I  to  her,  "  since,  ungrateful  woman,  thy 
hard  heart  treats  me  thus,  and  thou  carest  no  more  about 
my  presents  than  that,  let  them  go  to  the  devil  I "  and  I 
hurled  them,  patajibu,  into  the  precipice.  .  .  . 

Here  the  tone  is  not  one  that  an  English 
reader  finds  serious ;  the  sending  the  jewels  to 
the  Devil,  in  the  presence  of  the  beautiful  lady, 
and  the  interjection,  seem  trivial.  Evidently 
they  are  not  so,  for  the  Princess  is  mollified  at 
once. 

"  He  was  not  very  astute,  he  who  made  thee 
believe  that  the  love  of  a  proud  soul  can  be  won 
with  a  few  trinkets  !  Ah,  where  are  the  hand- 
some Troubadours,  masters  of  love  ?  " 

She  tells  the  love-stories  of  Geoffroy  Rudel, 
of  Ganbert  de  Puy-Abot,  of  Foulquet  of  Mar- 
seilles, of  Guillaume.de  Balaiin,  of  Guillaume 


148  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

de  la  Tour,  and  her  words  fall  upon  Calendau's 
heart  like  a  flame.  He  catches  a  glimpse  of  an 
existence  of  constant  ecstasy. 

His  second  exploit  is  a  tournament  on  the 
water,  where  the  combatants  stand  on  boats, 
and  are  rowed  violently  against  one  another, 
each  striking  his  lance  against  the  wooden 
breastplate  of  his  adversary.  His  victory  wins 
for  him  the  hatred  of  the  Cassidians,  for  his 
enemy  accuses  him  of  cornering  the  fish.  Es- 
terello  consoles  him  with  more  stories  from  the 
Chansons  de  geste  and  the  songs  of  the  Trou- 
badours. 

In  the  seventh  canto  is  described  in  magnifi- 
cent language  Calendau's  exploit  on  the  Mont 
Ventoux.  This  is  a  remarkable  mountain,  visi- 
ble all  over  the  southern  portion  of  the  Rhone 
valley,  standing  in  solitary  grandeur,  like  a 
great  pyramid  dominating  the  plain.  Its  sum- 
mit is  exceedingly  difiicult  of  access.  It  ap- 
pears to  be  the  first  mountain  that  literature 
records  as  having  been  ascended  for  pleasure. 
This  ascent  is  the  subject  of  one  of  Petrarch's 
letters. 

During  nine  days  Calendau  felled  the  larches 
that  grew  upon  the  flanks  of  the  mighty  moun- 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  149 

tain,  and  hurled  the  forest  piecemeal  into  the 
torrent  below.  At  the  Rocher  du  Cire  he  is 
frightfully  stung  by  myriads  of  bees,  during 
his  attempt  to  obtain  as  a  trophy  for  his  lady  a 
quantity  of  honey  from  this  well-nigh  inacces- 
sible place.  The  kind  of  criticism  that  is 
appropriate  for  realistic  literature  is  here  quite 
out  of  place.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that 
the  episode  is  far  from  convincing.  Calendau 
compares  his  sufferings  to  those  of  a  soul  in 
hell,  condemned  to  the  cauldron  of  oil.  Yet  he 
makes  a  safe  escape,  and  we  never  hear  of  the 
physical  consequences  of  his  terrible  punish- 
ment. 

The  canto,  in  its  vivid  language,  its  move- 
ment, its  life,  is  one  of  the  most  astonishing 
that  has  come  from  the  pen  of  its  author.  It 
offers  beautiful  examples  of  his  inspiration  in 
depicting  the  lovely  aspects  of  nature.  He 
finds  words  of  liquid  sweetness  to  describe  the 
music  of  the  morning  breezes  breathing  through 
the  mass  of  trees :  — 

"  La  Ventoureso  matiniero, 
En  trespirant  dins  la  sourniero 
Dis  aubre,  fernissie  coume  un  pur  cantadis, 
Ounte  di  colo  e  di  vallado, 


160  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

Tduti  li  voues  en  assemblado, 
Mandavon  sa  boiifaroulado. 
Li  mk\e  tranquilas,  li  mfele  mescladis,"  etc. 

The  morning  breeze  of  the  Mont  Ventoux,  breathing 
into  the  mass  of  trees,  quivered  like  a  pure  symphony  of 
song  wherein  all  the  voices  of  hill  and  dale  sent  their 
breathings. 

In  the  last  line  the  word  tranquilas  is  meant 
to  convey  the  idea  "in  tranquil  grandeur." 

This  rutliless  destruction  of  the  forest  brings 
down  upon  Calendau  the  anger  of  his  lady ;  he 
has  dishonored  the  noble  mountain.  "Sacri- 
legious generation,  ye  have  the  harvest  of  the 
plains,  the  chestnut  and  the  olives  of  the  hill- 
sides, but  the  beetling  brows  of  the  mountains 
belong  to  God  !"  and  the  lady  continues  an 
eloquent  defence  of  the  trees,  "the  beloved 
sons,  the  inseparable  nurslings,  the  joy,  the 
colossal  glory  of  the  universal  nurse ! "  and 
pictures  the  vengeance  Nature  wreaks  when  she 
is  wronged.     Calendau  is  humbled  and  departs. 

His  next  exploit  is  the  settling  of  the  feud 
between  two  orders  of  Masons.  He  displays 
marvellous  bravery  in  facing  the  fighting 
crowds,  and  they  choose  him  to  be  umpire.  He 
delivers  a  noble  speech  in  favor  of  peace,  full 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS       151 

of  allusions  to  the  architectural  glories  of 
Provence,  that  grew  up  when  "  faith  and  union 
lent  their  torch."  He  tells  the  story  of  the 
building  of  the  bridge  of  Avignon.  "  Noah 
himself  with  his  ark  could  have  passed  beneath 
each  of  its  arches."  He  touches  their  emotions 
with  his  appeal  for  peace,  and  they  depart 
reconciled. 

And  now  Esterello  begins  to  love  him.  She 
bids  him  strive  for  the  noblest  things,  to  love 
country  and  humanity,  to  become  a  knight,  an 
apostle  ;  and  after  Calendau  has  performed  the 
feat  of  capturing  the  famous  brigand  Marco- 
Mau,  after  he  has  been  crowned  in  the  feasts 
at  Aix,  and  resisted  victorious  the  wiles  of  the 
women  that  surround  the  Count  Severan,  and 
saved  his  lady  in  the  fearful  combat  on  the  fire- 
surrounded  rock,  he  wins  her. 

III.  Nebto 

In  spite  of  its  utter  unreality  Nerto  is  a  charm- 
ing tale,  written  in  a  sprightly  vein,  with  here  and 
there  a  serious  touch,  reminding  the  reader  fre- 
quently of  Ariosto.  The  Devil,  the  Saints,  and 
the  Angels  figure  in  it  prominently ;  but  the 
Devil  is  not  a  very  terrible  personage  in  Provence, 


152  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

and  the  Angels  are  entirely  lacking  in  Miltonic 
grandeur.  The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in 
the  time  of  Benedict  XIII,  who  was  elected 
Pope  at  Avignon  in  1394.  The  story  offers 
a  lively  picture  of  the  papal  court,  remind- 
ing the  reader  forcibly  of  the  description 
found  in  Daudet's  famous  tale  of  the  Pope's 
mule.  It  is  filled  throughout  with  legends 
relating  to  the  Devil,  and  with  superstitious 
beliefs  of  the  Middle  Age.  It  is  not  always 
easy  to  determine  when  the  poet  is  serious  in 
his  statement  of  religious  belief,  occasionally  he 
appears  to  be  so,  and  then  a  line  or  so  shows  us 
that  he  has  a  legend  in  mind.  In  the  prologue 
of  the  poem  he  says :  — 

"  Crfeire,  coundus  h  la  vitbri. 
Douta,  vaqui  1'  endourmitbri 
E  la  pouisoun  dins  lou  barrieu 
E  la  lachuslo  dins  lou  rieu." 

To  believe  leads  to  victory.  Doubt  is  the  narcotic, 
and  the  poison  in  the  barrel,  and  the  euphorbia  in  the 
stream. 

"  E,  quand  lou  pople  a  perdu  fe, 
L'infer  abrivo  si  boufet." 

And  when  the  people  have  lost  faith, 
Hell  sets  its  bellows  blowing. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  163 

Then  later  we  read :  "  What  is  this  world  ? 
A  wager  between  Christ  and  the  Demon. 
Thousands  of  years  ago  he  challenged  God, 
and  when  the  great  game  began,  they  played 
with  great  loose  rocks  from  the  hills,  at  quoits, 
and  if  any  one  is  unwilling  to  believe  this,  let 
him  go  to  Mount  Leberon  and  see  the  stone 
thrown  by  Satan." 

So  we  see  that  the  theology  was  merely  a 
means  of  leading  up  to  a  local  legend. 

The  story  is  briefly  as  follows :  Nerto,  like 
all  Mistral's  heroines,  is  exceedingly  young, 
thirteen  years  of  age.  Her  father,  the  Baron 
Pons,  had  gambled  away  everything  he  owned 
in  this  world,  when  she  was  a  very  little  child, 
and  while  walking  along  a  lonely  road  one 
night  he  met  the  Devil,  who  took  advantage  of 
his  despair  to  tempt  him  with  the  sight  of 
heaps  of  money.  The  wretched  father  sold  his 
daughter's  soul  to  the  Evil  One.  Now  on  his 
death-bed  he  tells  his  child  the  fearful  tale  ;  one 
means  of  salvation  lies  open  for  her  —  she  must 
go  to  the  Pope.  Benedict  XIII  is  besieged  in 
the  great  palace  at  Avignon,  but  the  Baron 
knows  of  a  secret  passage  from  his  castle  lead- 
ing under  the   river   Durance   to   one  of  the 


154  FRtD]fcRIC   MISTRAL 

towers  of  the  papal  residence.  He  bids  Nerto 
go  to  seek  deliverance  from  the  bond,  and  to 
make  known  to  the  Pope  the  means  of  escape. 
Nerto  reaches  the  palace  at  the  moment  when  all 
is  in  great  commotion,  for  the  enemy  have  suc- 
ceeded in  setting  it  on  fire.  She  is  first  seen 
by  the  Pope's  nephew  Don  Rodrigue,  an  exceed- 
ingly wicked  young  man,  a  sort  of  brawling  Don 
Juan,  who  seems  to  have  been  guilty  of  numer- 
ous assassinations.  He  immediately  begins  to 
talk  love  to  the  maiden,  as  the  means  of  saving 
her  from  the  Devil,  "  the  path  of  love  is  full  of 
flowers  and  leads  to  Paradise.  But  Nerto  has 
been  taught  that  the  road  to  Heaven  is  full  of 
stones  and  thorns,  and  her  innocence  saves  her 
from  the  passionate  outburst  of  the  licentious 
youth.  And  Nerto  is  taken  to  the  Pope,  whom 
she  finds  sadly  enthroned  in  all  his  splendor, 
and  brings  him  the  news  of  a  means  of  escape. 
The  last  Pope  of  Avignon  bearing  the  sacred 
elements,  pourtant  soun  Dieu,,  follows  the 
maiden  through  the  underground  passage,  and 
escapes  with  all  his  followers.  At  Chateau- 
Renard  he  sets  up  his  court  with  the  King  of 
Forcalquier,  Naples,  and  Jerusalem  and  Donna 
lolanthe  his  Queen.     Nerto  asks  the  Pope  to 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS       155 

save  her  soul,  but  he  is  powerless.  Only  a  mir- 
acle can  save  a  soul  sold  to  Satan.  She  must 
enter  a  convent,  and  pray  to  the  Saints  continu- 
ally. The  Court  is  about  to  move  to  Aries,  she 
shall  enter  the  convent  there.  On  the  way, 
Don  Rodrigue  makes  love  to  her  assiduously, 
but  the  young  girl's  heart  seems  untroubled. 

At  Aries  we  witness  a  great  combat  of 
animals,  in  which  the  lion  of  Aries,  along  with 
four  bulls,  is  turned  loose  in  the  arena.  The 
lion  kills  all  but  one  of  the  bulls.  The  fourth 
beast,  enraged,  gores  the  lion.  The  royal 
brute  rushes  among  the  spectators  and  makes 
for  the  King's  throne.  Nerto  and  the  Queen  are 
crouching  in  terror  before  him,  when  Don  Rod- 
rigue slays  the  animal,  saving  Nerto's  life.  Nay, 
he  saves  more  than  her  life,  for  had  she  died 
then  she  would  have  been  a  prey  to  the  flames 
of  Hell. 

Nerto  becomes  a  nun,  but  Don  Rodrigue, 
with  a  band  of  ribald  followers,  succeeds  in 
carrying  her  off  with  all  the  other  nuns.  They 
are  all  driven  by  the  King's  soldiers  into  the 
cemetery  of  the  Aliscamps.  Nerto  wanders  away 
during  the  battle  and  is  lost  among  the  tombs. 
At  dawn  the  next  day  she  strays  far  out  to  a 


166  frI;d6ric  mistral 

forest,  where  she  finds  a  hermit.  The  old  man 
welcomes  her,  and  believes  he  can  save  her  soul. 
The  Angel  Gabriel  visits  him  frequently,  and 
he  will  speak  to  him.  But  the  Angel  disap- 
proves, condemns  the  pride  of  the  anchorite,  and 
soars  away  to  the  stars  without  a  word  of  hope 
or  consolation,  and  so  in  great  anxiety  the  pious 
man  bids  her  go  back  to  the  convent,  and 
prays  Saint  Gabriel,  Saint  Consortia,  Saint 
Tullia,  Saint  Gent,  Saint  Verdeme,  Saint  Julien, 
Saint  Trophime,  Saint  Formin,  and  Saint  Ste- 
phen to  accompany  her. 

Don  Rodrigue  is  living  in  a  palace  built  for 
him  in  one  night  by  the  Devil,  wherein  are  seven 
halls,  each  devoted  to  one  of  the  seven  mortal 
sins.  Hither  Nerto  wanders;  here  Rodrigue 
finds  her,  and  begins  his  passionate  love-making 
afresh.  But  Nerto  remains  true  to  her  vows, 
although  the  germ  of  love  has  been  in  her  heart 
since  the  day  Rodrigue  saved  her  from  the  lion. 
On  learning  that  she  is  in  the  Devil's  castle, 
she  is  filled  with  terror,  believing  the  fatal  day 
has  arrived.  She  confesses  her  love.  The 
maiden  cries:  "Woe  is  me,  Nerto  loves  you, 
but  if  Hell  should  swallow  us  up,  would  there 
be  any  love  for  the  damned?     Rodrigue,  no, 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  157 

there  is  none.  If  you  would  but  break  the 
tie  that  binds  you,  if,  with  one  happy  wing- 
stroke,  you  could  soar  up  to  the  summits 
where  lives  last  forever,  where  hearts  vanish 
united  in  the  bosom  of  God,  I  should  be  de- 
livered, it  seems  to  me,  in  the  same  upward 
impulse;  for,  in  heaven  or  in  the  abyss,  I 
am  inseparable  from  you."  Rodrigue  replies 
sadly,  that  his  past  is  too  dreadful,  that  only 
the  ocean  could  wipe  it  out.  "  Rodrigue,  one 
burst  of  repentance  is  worth  a  long  penance. 
Courage,  come,  only  one  look  toward  Heaven ! " 
The  Devil  appears.  He  swells  with  pride  in 
this,  his  finest  triumph;  black  souls  he  has 
in  plenty,  but  since  the  beginning  of  his  reign 
over  the  lower  regions  he  has  never  captured 
an  immaculate  victim  like  this  soul.  Rodrigue 
inverts  his  sword,  and  at  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
a  terrific  hurricane  sweeps  away  the  palace, 
Don  Rodrigue,  and  the  Devil,  and  nothing  is 
left  but  a  nun  of  stone  who  is  still  visible  in 
the  midst  of  a  field  on  the  site  of  the  chateau. 
In  an  Epilogue  we  learn  from  the  Archangel 
who  visits  the  hermit  that  the  knight  and  the 
maiden  were  both  saved. 

It  is  difficult  to  characterize  the  curious  com- 


158  FRifeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

bination  of  levity  and  seriousness  that  runs 
through  this  tale.  There  is  no  illusion  of 
reality  anywhere ;  there  is  no  agony  of  soul 
in  Baron  Pon's  confession ;  Nerto's  terror  when 
she  learns  that  she  is  the  property  of  the  Devil 
is  far  from  impressive,  because  she  says  too 
much,  with  expressions  that  are  too  pretty, 
perhaps  because  the  rippling  octosyllabic  verse, 
in  Provengal  at  least,  cannot  be  serious  ;  it  is 
hardly  worth  while  to  mention  the  objection 
that  if  the  Devil  can  be  worsted  at  any  time 
merely  by  inverting  a  sword,  especially  when 
the  sword  is  that  of  an  assassin  and  a  rake, 
whose  repentance  is  scarcely  touched  upon  and 
is  by  no  means  disinterested,  it  is  clear  that  the 
Demon  has  wasted  his  time  at  a  very  foolish 
game  ;  a  religious  mind  might  feel  a  deeper 
sort  of  reverence  for  the  Archangels  than  is 
evinced  here.  Yet  it  cannot  be  said  that  the 
poem  parodies  things  sacred  and  sublime,  and 
it  appears  to  be  utterly  without  philosophical 
intention.  Mistral  really  has  to  a  surprising 
degree  the  naivete  of  writers  of  former  cen- 
turies, and  as  regards  the  tale  itself  and  its  gen- 
eral treatment  it  could  almost  have  been  written 
by  a  contemporary  of  the  events  it  relates. 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS       159 

IV.    Lou  PouBMo  d6u  Bose 

The  Poem  of  the  RJione^  the  third  of  the 
poems  in  twelve  cantos  that  Mistral  has  written, 
appeared  in  1897.  It  completes  the  symmetry 
of  his  life  work  ;  the  former  epics  extolled  the 
life  of  the  fields,  the  mountains,  and  the  sea,  the 
last  glorifies  the  beautiful  river  that  brings 
life  to  his  native  soil.  More  than  either  of 
the  other  long  poems,  it  is  an  act  of  affection 
for  the  past,  for  the  Rhone  of  the  poem  is  the 
Rhone  of  his  early  childhood,  before  the  steam- 
packets  churned  its  waters,  or  the  railroads 
poured  up  their  smoke  along  its  banks.  Al- 
though the  poet  has  interwoven  in  it  a  tale  of 
merest  fancy,  it  is  essentially  realistic,  differing 
notably  in  this  respect  from  Calendau.  This 
realism  descends  to  the  merest  details,  and  the 
poetic  quality  of  the  work  suffers  considerably 
in  many  passages.  The  poet  does  not  shrink 
from  minute  enumeration  of  cargoes,  or  tech- 
nical description  of  boats,  or  word-for-word 
reproduction  of  the  idle  talk  of  boatwomen,  or 
the  apparently  inexhaustible  profanity  of  the 
boatmen.  The  life  on  the  river  is  vividly  por- 
trayed, and  we  put  down  the  book  with  a  sense 


160  fr6d6ric  mistral 

of  really  having  made  the  journey  from  Lyons 
to  Beaucaire  with  the  fleet  of  seven  boats  of 
Master  Apian. 

On  opening  the  volume  the  reader  is  struck 
first  of  all  with  the  novel  versification.  It 
is  blank  verse,  the  line  being  precisely  that 
of  Dante's  Divina  Commedia.  Not  only  is 
there  no  rhyme,  but  assonance  is  very  care- 
fully avoided.  The  effect  of  this  unbroken 
succession  of  feminine  verses  is  slightly  monot- 
onous, though  the  poet  shifts  his  pauses  skil- 
fully. The  rhythm  of  the  lines  is  marked,  the 
effect  upon  the  ear  being  quite  like  that  of  Eng- 
lish iambic  pentameters  hypercatalectic.  The 
absence  of  rhyme  is  the  more  noteworthy  in 
that  rhyme  offers  little  difficulty  in  Provengal. 
Doubtless  the  poet  was  pleased  to  show  an  ad- 
ditional claim  to  superiority  for  his  speech  over 
the  French  as  a  vehicle  for  poetic  thought ;  for 
while  on  the  one  hand  the  rules  of  rhyme  and 
hiatus  give  the  poet  writing  in  Provencal  less 
trouble  than  when  writing  in  French,  on  the 
other  hand  this  poem  proves  that  splendid 
blank  verse  may  be  written  in  the  new 
language. 

The  plan  of  the  poem  is  briefly  as  follows: 


THE   FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  161 

it  describes  the  departure  of  a  fleet  of  boats 
from  Lyons,  accompanies  them  down  the  river 
to  Beaucaire,  describes  the  fair  and  the  return 
up  the  river,  the  boats  being  hauled  by  eighty 
horses  ;  narrates  the  collision  with  a  steamboat 
coming  down  the  stream,  which  drags  the  ani- 
mals into  the  water,  setting  the  boats  adrift  in 
the  current,  destroying  them  and  their  cargo, 
and  typifying  as  it  were  the  ruin  of  the  old 
traffic  on  the  Rhone.  The  river  itself  is  de- 
scribed, its  dangerous  shoals,  its  beautiful 
banks,  its  towns  and  castles.  We  learn  how 
the  boats  were  manoeuvred  ;  the  life  on  board 
and  the  ideas  of  the  men  are  set  before  us 
minutely.  Legends  and  stories  concerning  the 
river  and  the  places  along  the  shores  abound, 
of  course  ;  and  into  this  general  background  is 
woven  the  tale  of  a  Prince  of  Orange  and  a 
little  maiden  called  the  Anglore,  two  of  the 
curiously  half-real,  half-unreal  beings  that 
Mistral  seems  to  love  to  create.  The  Prince 
comes  on  board  the  fleet,  intending  to  see 
Orange  and  Provence  ;  some  day  he  is  to  be 
King  of  Holland,  but  has  already  sickened  of 
court  ceremonies  and  intrigues. 

"  Uno  foulid  d'amour  s'es  mes  en  t^to." 


162  FRifeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

This  dreamy,  imaginative,  blond  Prince  is  in 
search  of  a  Naiade  and  the  mysterious  "swan- 
flower,"  wherein  the  fair  nymph  is  hidden. 
This  flower  he  wears  as  an  emblem.  When 
the  boatmen  see  it,  they  recognize  it  as  the 
jieur  de  Rh6ne  that  the  Anglore  is  so  fond 
of  culling.  The  men  get  Jean  Roche,  one  of 
their  number,  to  tell  the  Prince  who  this  mys- 
terious Anglore  is,  and  we  learn  that  she  is  a 
little,  laughing  maiden,  who  wanders  barefoot 
on  the  sand,  so  charming  that  any  of  the  sailors, 
were  she  to  make  a  sign,  would  spring  into  the 
water  to  go  and  print  a  kiss  upon  her  little 
foot.  Not  only  is  the  Prince  in  search  of  a 
nymph  and  a  flower,  not  only  does  he  wish  to 
behold  Orange,  he  wishes  also  to  learn  the  lan- 
guage in  which  the  Countess  of  Die  sang  lays 
of  love  with  Raimbaud  of  Orange.  He  is  full 
of  thoughts  of  the  olden  days,  he  feels  regret 
for  the  lost  conquests.  "  But  why  should  he 
feel  regret,  if  he  may  recover  the  sunny  land  of 
his  forefathers  by  drinking  it  in  with  eager 
eyes  I  What  need  is  there  of  gleaming  swords 
to  seize  what  the  eye  shows  us?"  He  cares 
little  for  royalty. 

"  Strongholds  crumble  away,  as  may  be  seen 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  163 

on  all  these  hills ;  everything  falls  to  ruin  and 
is  renewed.  But  on  thy  summits,  unchanging 
Nature,  forever  the  thyme  shall  bloom,  and  the 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses  frolic  on  the  grass 
at  the  return  of  spring." 

The  Prince  apostrophizes  the  "  empire  of  the 
sun,"  bordering  like  a  silver  hem  the  dazzling 
Rhone,  the  "poetic  empire  of  Provence,  that 
with  its  name  alone  doth  charm  the  world,"  and 
he  calls  to  mind  the  empire  of  the  Bosonides, 
the  memory  of  which  survives  in  the  speech  of 
the  boatmen;  they  call  the  east  shore  "em- 
pire," the  west  shore  "kingdom." 

The  journey  is  full  of  episodes.  The  owner 
of  the  fleet.  Apian,  is  a  sententious  individual. 
He  is  devoted  to  his  river  life,  full  of  religious 
fervor,  continually  crossing  himself  or  praying 
to  Saint  Nicholas,  the  patron  saint  of  sailors. 
This  faith,  however,  is  not  entire.  If  a  man 
falls  into  the  water,  the  fellows  call  to  him, 
"  Recommend  thyself  to  Saint  Nicholas,  but  swim 
for  dear  life."  As  the  English  expression  has 
it,  "  Trust  to  God,  but  keep  your  powder  dry. " 
Master  Apian  always  says  the  Lord's  Prayer 
aloud  when  he  puts  off  from  shore,  and  sol- 
emnly utters  the  words,  "  In  the  name  of  God 


164  FRtDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

and  the  Holy  Virgin,  to  the  Rhone ! "  His 
piety,  however,  does  not  prevent  him  from  in- 
terrupting his  prayer  to  swear  at  the  men  most 
vigorously.  Says  he,  "Let  whoever  would 
learn  to  pray,  follow  the  water,"  but  his  argu- 
ments and  experiences  rather  teach  the  vanity 
of  prayer.  He  is  full  of  superstitious  tales. 
He  has  views  of  life. 

"  Life  is  a  journey  like  that  of  the  bark.  It 
has  its  bad,  its  good  days.  The  wise  man,  when 
the  waves  smile,  ought  to  know  how  to  behave ; 
in  the  breakers  he  must  go  slow.  But  man  is 
born  for  toil,  for  navigation.  He  who  rows  gets 
his  pay  at  the  end  of  the  month.  He  who  is 
afraid  of  blistering  his  hands  takes  a  dive  into 
the  abyss  of  poverty."  He  tells  a  story  of 
Napoleon  in  flight  down  the  Rhone,  of  the 
women  who  cried  out  at  him,  reviling  him, 
bidding  him  give  back  their  sons,  shaking  their 
fists  and  crying  out,  "  Into  the  Rhone  with 
him."  Once  when  he  was  changing  horses  at 
an  inn,  a  woman,  bleeding  a  fowl  at  the  door, 
exclaimed :  "Ha,  the  cursed  monster !  If  I  had 
him  here,  I'd  plant  my  knife  into  his  throat  like 
that !  "  The  emperor,  unknown  to  her,  draws 
near.     "What  did  he  do  to  you?  "  said  he.     "I 


THE  FOUE  LONGER  POEMS  165 

had  two  sons,"  replied  the  bereaved  mother 
wrathfuUy,  "two  handsome  boys,  tall  as  towers. 
He  killed  them  for  me  in  his  battles." — "Their 
names  will  not  perish  in  the  stars,"  said  Napo- 
leon sadly.  "  Why  could  I  not  fall  like  them  ? 
for  they  died  for  their  country  on  the  field  of 
glory."  —  "But  who  are  you?"  —  "I  am  the 
emperor."  — "  Ah  ! "  The  good  woman  fell 
upon  her  knees  dismayed,  kissed  his  hands, 
begged  his  forgiveness,  and  all  in  tears  — 
Here  the  story  is  interrupted. 

Wholly  charming  and  altogether  original  is 
the  tale  of  the  little  maiden  whom  the  boatmen 
name  L'Anglore,  and  whom  Jean  Roche  loves. 
The  men  have  named  her  so  for  fun.  They 
knew  her  well,  having  seen  her  from  earliest 
childhood,  half  naked,  paddling  in  the  water 
along  the  shore,  sunning  herself  like  the  little 
lizard  they  call  anglore.  Now  she  had  grown, 
and  eked  out  a  poor  living  by  seeking  for  gold 
in  the  sands  brought  down  by  the  Ardeche. 

The  little  maid  believed  in  the  story  of  the 
Drac,  a  sort  of  merman,  that  lived  in  the  Rhone, 
and  had  power  to  fascinate  the  women  who  ven- 
tured into  the  water.  There  was  once  a  very 
widespread  superstition  concerning  this  Protean 


Id6  FR:feD:feRIC  MISTRAL 

creature ;  and  the  women  washing  in  the  river 
often  had  a  figure  of  the  Drac,  in  the  form  of  a 
lizard,  carved  upon  the  piece  of  wood  with  which 
they  beat  the  linen,  as  a  sort  of  talisman  against 
his  seduction.  The  mother  of  the  Anglore  had 
told  her  of  his  wiles ;  and  one  story  impressed 
her  above  all  —  the  story  of  the  young  woman 
who,  fascinated  by  the  Drac,  lost  her  footing  in 
the  water  and  was  carried  whirling  down  into 
the  depths.  At  the  end  of  seven  years  she  re- 
turned and  told  her  tale.  She  had  been  seized 
by  the  Drac,  and  for  seven  years  he  kept  her  to 
nurse  his  little  Drac. 

The  Anglore  was  never  afraid  while  seeking 
the  specks  of  gold  in  the  sunlight.  But  at 
night  it  was  different.  A  gem  of  poetry  is  the 
scene  in  the  sixth  canto,  full  of  witchery  and 
charm,  wherein  the  imagination  of  the  little 
maid,  wandering  out  along  the  water  in  the 
mysterious  moonlight,  causes  her  to  fancy  she 
sees  the  Drac  in  the  form  of  a  fair  youth  smiling 
upon  her,  offering  her  a  wild  flower,  uttering 
sweet,  mysterious  words  of  love  that  die  away 
in  the  water.  She  often  came  again  to  meet 
him ;  and  she  noticed  that  if  ever  she  crossed 
herself  on  entering  the  water,  as  she  had  always 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  167 

done  when  a  little  girl,  the  Drac  would  not 
appear.  These  three  or  four  pages  mark  the 
genuine  poet  and  the  master  of  language.  The 
mysterious  night,  oppressively  warm,  the  moon- 
light shining  on  the  little  white  figure,  the  deep 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  faint  murmur  of  the 
river  and  the  distant  singing  of  a  nightingale, 
the  gleam  of  the  glowworms,  compose  a  scene  of 
fantastic  beauty.  The  slightest  sounds  startle 
her,  whether  it  be  a  fish  leaping  at  the  surface 
of  the  water  to  seize  a  fly,  the  gurgling  of  a 
little  eddy,  or  the  shrill  cry  of  a  bat.  There  is 
a  certain  voluptuous  beauty  in  the  very  sound 
of  the  words  that  describe  the  little  nymph, 
kissed  by  the  moonbeams  :  — 

"  alusentido 
Pfer  li  rai  de  la  luno  que  beisavon 
Soun  fin  coutet,  sa  jouino  car  ambrenco, 
Si  bras  poupin,  sis  esquino  rabloto 
E  si  pousseto  armouniouso  e  fermo 
Que  s'amagavon  coume  dos  tourtourd 
Dins  I'esparpai  de  sa  cabeladuro." 

The  last  three  lines  fall  like  a  caress  upon  the 
ear.  Mistral  often  attains  a  perfect  melody  of 
words  with  the  harmonious  succession  of  varied 
vowel  sounds  and  the  well-marked  cadence  of 
his  verse. 


168  FRIJD^RIC  mistral 

When  Apian's  fleet  comes  down  the  river  and 
passes  the  spot  where  the  little  maid  seeks  for 
gold,  the  men  see  her  and  invite  her  on  board. 
She  will  go  down  to  Beaucaire  to  sell  her  find- 
ings. Jean  Roche  offers  himself  in  marriage, 
but  she  will  have  none  of  him;  she  loves  the 
vision  seen  beneath  the  waves.  When  the 
Anglore  spies  the  blond-haired  Prince,  she 
turns  pale  and  nearly  swoons.  "'Tis  he,  'tis 
he ! "  she  cries,  and  she  stands  fascinated. 
William,  charmed  with  the  little  maid,  says 
to  her,  "I  recognize  thee,  O  Rhone  flower, 
blooming  on  the  water  —  flower  of  good  omen 
that  I  saw  in  a  dream."  The  little  maid  calls 
him  Drac,  identifies  the  flower  in  his  hand,  and 
lives  on  in  this  hallucination.  The  boatmen 
consider  that  she  has  lost  her  reason,  and  say 
she  must  have  drunk  of  the  fountain  of  Tourne. 
The  little  maid  hears  them,  and  bids  them  speak 
low,  for  their  fate  is  written  at  the  fountain  of 
Tourne ;  and  like  a  Sibyl,  raising  her  bare  arm, 
she  describes  the  mysterious  carvings  on  the 
rock,  and  the  explanation  given  by  a  witch  she 
knew.  These  carvings,  according  to  Mistral's 
note,  were  dedicated  to  the  god  Mithra.  The 
meaning  given  by  the  witch  is  that  the  day  the 


THE  FOUR  LONGER   POEMS  169 

Drac  shall  leave  the  river  Rhone  forever,  that 
day  the  boatmen  shall  perish.  The  men  do  not 
laugh,  for  they  have  already  heard  of  the  great 
boats  that  can  make  their  way  against  the  cur- 
rent without  horses.  Apian  breaks  out  into 
furious  imprecations  against  the  men  who  would 
ruin  the  thousands  that  depend  for  their  living 
upon  the  river.  One  is  struck  by  this  intro- 
duction of  a  question  of  political  economy  into 
a  poem. 

During  the  journey  to  Avignon  the  Prince 
falls  more  and  more  in  love  with  the  little 
Anglore,  whom  no  sort  of  evidence  can  shake 
out  of  her  belief  that  the  Prince  is  the  Drac,  for 
the  Drac  can  assume  any  form  at  pleasure.  Her 
delusion  is  so  complete,  so  naive,  that  the  prince, 
romantic  by  nature,  is  entirely  under  the  spell. 

There  come  on  board  three  Venetian  women, 
who  possess  the  secret  of  a  treasure,  twelve 
golden  statues  of  the  Apostles  buried  at  Avi- 
gnon. The  Prince  leaves  the  boat  to  help  them 
find  the  place,  and  the  little  maid  suffers  in- 
tensely the  pangs  of  jealousy.  But  he  comes 
back  to  her,  and  takes  her  all  about  the  great 
fair  at  Beaucaire.  That  night,  however,  he 
wanders  out  alone,  and  while  calling  to  mind 


170  FRifeDljRIC  MISTRAL 

the  story  of  Aucassin  and  Nicolette,  he  is  sand- 
bagged, but  not  killed.  The  Anglore  believes 
he  has  left  his  human  body  on  the  ground  so  as 
to  visit  his  caverns  beneath  the  Rhone.  William 
seems  unhurt,  and  at  the  last  dinner  before  they 
start  to  go  up  the  river  again,  surrounded  by  the 
crew,  he  makes  them  a  truly  Felibrean  speech: — 

"  Do  you  know,  friends,  to  whom  I  feel  like 
consecrating  our  last  meal  in  Beaucaire  ?  To 
the  patriots  of  the  Rhodanian  shores,  to  the 
dauntless  men  who,  in  olden  days,  maintained 
themselves  in  the  strong  castle  that  stands  be- 
fore our  eyes,  to  the  dwellers  along  the  river* 
banks  who  defended  so  valiantly  their  customs, 
their  free  trade,  and  their  great  free  Rhone.  If 
the  sons  of  those  forefathers  who  fell  bravely 
in  the  strife,  to-day  have  forgotten  their  glory, 
well,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  sons  !  But 
you,  my  mates,  you  who  have  preserved  the  call. 
Empire  !  and  who,  like  the  brave  men  you  are, 
will  soon  go  and  defend  the  Rhone  in  its  very 
life,  fighting  your  last  battle  with  me,  a  stranger, 
but  enraptured  and  intoxicated  with  the  light 
of  your  Rhone,  come,  raise  your  glasses  to  the 
cause  of  the  vanquished  !  " 

The  love  scenes  between  the  Prince  and  the 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  171 

Anglore  continue  during  the  journey  up  the 
river.  Her  devotion  to  him  is  complete  ;  she 
knows  not  whither  she  goes,  if  to  perish,  then 
let  it  be  with  him.  In  a  moment  of  enthusiasm 
William  makes  a  passionate  declaration. 

"Trust  me,  Anglore,  since  I  have  freely 
chosen  thee,  since  thou  hast  brought  me  thy 
deep  faith  in  the  beautiful  wonders  of  the  fable, 
since  thou  art  she  who,  without  thought,  yields 
to  her  love,  as  wax  melts  in  the  sun,  since  thou 
livest  free  of  all  our  bonds  and  shams,  since  in 
thy  blood,  in  thy  pure  bosom,  lies  the  renewal 
of  the  old  sap,  I,  on  my  faith  as  a  Prince,  I 
swear  to  thee  that  none  but  me,  O  my  Rhone 
flower,  shall  have  the  happiness  to  pluck  thee 
as  a  flower  of  love  and  as  a  wife  ! " 

But  this  promise  is  never  kept.  One  day  the 
boats  meet  the  steamer  coming  down  the  river. 
Apian,  pale  and  silent,  watches  the  magic  bark 
whose  wheels  beat  like  great  paws,  and,  raising 
great  waves,  come  down  steadily  upon  him. 

The  captain  cries,  "  One  side  !  "  but,  obsti- 
nate and  angry.  Apian  tries  to  force  the  steamer 
to  give  way.  The  result  is  disastrous.  The 
steamer  catches  in  the  towing  cables  and  drags 
the  horses  into  the  water.      The  boats  drift 


172  FR^DilRIC   MISTRAL 

back  and  are  hurled  against  a  bridge.  Will- 
iam and  the  Anglore  are  thrown  into  the  river 
and  are  lost.  All  the  others  escape  with  their 
lives.  Jean  Roche  is  not  sure  but  that  he 
was  the  Drac  after  all,  who,  foreseeing  the 
shipwreck,  had  thus  followed  the  boats,  to  carry 
the  Anglore  at  last  down  into  the  depths  of  the 
river.  Maitre  Apian  accepts  his  ruin  philo- 
sophically. Addressing  his  men,  he  says :  "  Ah, 
my  seven  boats  !  my  splendid  draught  horses  ! 
All  gone,  all  ruined  !  It  is  the  end  of  the  busi- 
ness !  Poor  fellow-boatmen,  you  may  well  say, 
'good-by  to  a  pleasant  life.'  To-day  the  great 
Rhone  has  died,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned." 

The  idea  of  the  poem  is,  then,  to  tell  of  the 
old  life  on  the  Rhone.  To-day  the  river  flows 
almost  as  in  the  days  when  its  shores  were  un- 
trod  by  men.  Rarely  is  any  sort  of  boat  seen 
upon  its  swift  and  dangerous  current.  Mistral 
portrays  the  life  he  knew,  and  he  has  done  it 
with  great  power  and  vividness.  The  fanciful 
tale  of  the  Prince  and  the  Anglore,  suggested 
by  the  beliefs  and  superstitions  of  the  humble 
folk,  was  introduced,  doubtless,  as  a  necessary 
love  story.  The  little  maid  Anglore,  half  mad 
in  her  illusion,  is  none  the  less  a  very  sympa- 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  173 

thetic  creation,  and  surely  quite  original.  This 
tale,  however,  running  through  the  poem  like  a 
thread,  is  not  the  poem,  nor  does  it  fill  propor- 
tionately a  large  place  therein.  The  poem  is, 
as  its  title  proclaims,  the  Poem  of  the  Rhone,  a 
poem  of  sincere  regret  for  the  good  old  days 
when  the  muscular  sons  of  Condrieu  ruled  the 
stream,  the  days  of  jollity,  of  the  curious  boat- 
ing tournaments  of  which  one  is  described  in 
Calendau,  when  the  children  used  to  watch  the 
boats  go  by  with  a  Condrillot  at  the  helm,  and 
the  Rhone  was  swarming  like  a  mighty  beehive. 
The  poet  notes  in  sorrow  that  all  is  dead.  The 
river  flows  on,  broad  and  silent,  and  no  vestige 
of  all  its  past  activity  remains,  but  here  and 
there  a  trace  of  the  cables  that  used  to  rub  along 
the  stones. 

As  we  said  at  the  outset,  what  is  most  strik- 
ing about  this  poem  is  its  realism.  The  poet 
revels  in  enumerating  the  good  things  the  men 
had  to  eat  at  the  feast  of  Saint  Nicholas ;  he  de- 
scribes with  a  wealth  of  vocabulary  and  a  flood 
of  technical  terms  quite  bewildering  every  sort 
of  boat,  and  all  its  parts  with  their  uses ;  he  re- 
produces the  talk  of  the  boatmen,  leaving  un- 
varnished their  ignorance  and  superstition,  their 


174  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

roughness  and  brutality ;  he  describes  their  ap- 
pearance, their  long,  hair  and  large  earrings ;  he 
explains  the  manner  of  guiding  the  boats  down 
the  swirling,  treacherous  waters,  amid  the  dan- 
gers of  shoals  and  hidden  rocks ;  he  describes  all 
the  cargoes,  not  finding  it  beneath  the  dignity 
of  an  epic  poem  to  tell  us  of  the  kegs  of  foamy 
beer  that  is  destined  for  the  thirsty  throats  of 
the  drinkers  at  Beaucaire  ;  as  the  boats  pass 
Condrieu,  he  reproduces  the  gossip  of  the  boat- 
men's wives ;  he  does  not  omit  the  explanations 
of  Apian  addressed  to  the  Prince  concerning 
fogs  and  currents ;  he  is  often  humorous,  telling 
us  of  the  heavy  merchants  who  promenade 
their  paunches  whereon  the  watch-charms  rattle 
against  their  snug  little  money  carried  in  a  belt ; 
he  describes  the  passengers,  tells  us  their  various 
trades  and  destinations,  is  even  cynical ;  tells  of 
the  bourgeois,  who,  once  away  from  their  wives, 
grow  suddenly  lavish  with  their  money,  and 
like  pigs  let  loose  in  the  street,  take  up  the 
whole  roadway ;  he  does  not  shrink  from  letting 
us  know  that  the  men  chew  a  cud  of  tobacco 
while  they  talk;  he  mentions  the  price  of 
goods ;  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Jean  Roche's 
mother  a  great  many  practical   and  material 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  175 

considerations  as  to  the  matter  of  taking  a  wife, 
and  a  very  wise  and  practical  old  lady  she  is ;  he 
treats  as  "  joyeuset^s  "  the  conversation  of  the 
Venetian  women  who  inform  the  Prince  that 
in  their  city  the  noblewoman;  once  married, 
may  have  quite  a  number  of  lovers  without  ex- 
citing any  comment,  the  husband  being  rather 
relieved  than  otherwise;  he  allows  his  boatmen 
to  swear  and  call  one  another  vile  names,  and  a 
howling,  brawling  lot  they  frequently  become ; 
and  when  at  last  we  get  to  the  fair  at  Beaucaire, 
there  are  pages  of  minute  enumerations  that  can 
scarcely  be  called  Homeric.  In  short,  a  very 
large  part  of  the  book  is  prose,  animated,  vig- 
orous, often  exaggerated,  but  prose.  Like  his 
other  long  poems  it  is  singularly  objective. 
Rarely  does  the  author  interrupt  his  narrative 
or  description  to  give  an  opinion,  to  speak  in 
his  own  name,  or  to  analyze  the  situation  he 
has  created.  Like  the  other  poems,  too,  it  is 
sprinkled  with  tales  and  legends  of  all  sorts, 
some  of  them  charming.  Superstitions  abound. 
Mistral  shares  the  fondness  of  the  Avignonnais 
for  the  number  seven.  Apian  has  seven  boats, 
the  Drac  keeps  his  victim  seven  years,  the 
woman  of  Condrieu  has  seven  sons. 


176  FR^DfeRIC   MISTRAL 

The  poem  offers  the  same  beauties  as  the 
others,  an  astonishing  power  of  description  first 
of  all.  Mistral  is  always  masterly,  always 
poetic  in  depicting  the  landscape  and  the  life 
that  moves  thereon,  and  especially  in  evoking 
the  life  of  the  past.  He  revives  for  us  the 
princesses  and  queens,  the  knights  and  trouba- 
dours, and  they  move  before  us,  a  fascinating, 
glittering  pageant.  The  perfume  of  flowers, 
the  sunlight  on  the  water,  the  great  birds  flying 
in  the  air,  the  silent  drifting  of  the  boats  in  the 
broad  valley,  the  reflection  of  the  tall  poplars  in 
the  water,  the  old  ruins  that  crown  the  hilltops 
—  all  these  things  are  exquisitely  woven  into 
the  verse,  and  more  than  a  mere  word-painting 
they  create  a  mood  in  the  reader  in  unison 
with  the  mood  of  the  person  of  whom  he  is 
reading. 

In  touching  truly  deep  and  serious  things 
Mistral  is  often  superficial,  and  passes  them  off 
with  a  commonplace.  An  instance  in  this  poem 
is  the  episode  of  the  convicts  on  their  way  to 
the  galleys  at  Toulon.  No  terrible  indignation, 
no  heartfelt  pity,  is  expressed.  Apian  silences 
one  of  his  crew  who  attempts  to  mock  at  the 
unhappy  wretches.  "  They  are  miserable  enough 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  177 

without  an  insult!  and  do  not  seem  to  recog- 
nize them,  for,  branded  on  the  shoulder,  they 
seek  the  shade.  Let  this  be  an  example  to  you 
all.  They  are  going  to  eat  beans  at  Toulon, 
poor  fellows!  All  sorts  of  men  are  there, — 
churchmen,  rascals,  nobles,  notaries,  even  some 
who  are  innocent !  " 

And  the  poet  concludes,  "Thus  the  world, 
thus  the  agitation,  the  stir  of  life,  good,  evil, 
pleasure,  pain,  pass  along  swiftly,  confusedly, 
between  day  and  night,  on  the  river  of  time, 
rolling  along  and  fleeing." 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  poet  leads  him  into 
exaggeration  whenever  he  comes  to  a  wonder 
of  Provence.  Things  are  relative  in  this  world, 
and  the  same  words  carry  different  meanings. 
Avignon  is  scarcely  a  colossal  pile  of  towers, 
and  would  not  remind  many  of  Venice,  even  at 
sunset,  and  we  must  make  a  discount  when  we 
hear  that  the  boats  are  engulfed  in  the  fierce 
(sic)  arch  of  the  colossal  bridge  of  stone  that 
Benezet,  the  shepherd,  erected  seven  hundred 
years  ago.  A  monlent  later  he  refers  daintily 
and  accurately  to  the  chapel  of  Saint  Nicholas 
"riding  on  the  bridge,  slender  and  pretty." 
The  epithets  sound  larger,  too,  in  Provengal; 


178  FR:fcDl:RIC  MISTRAL 

the  view  of  Avignon  is  "  espetaclouso,"  the 
walls  of  the  castle  are  "gigantesco." 

Especially  admirable  in  its  sober,  energetic 
expression  is  the  account  of  the  Remonte,  in 
the  eleventh  canto,  wherein  we  see  the  eighty 
horses,  grouped  in  fours,  tug  slowly  up  the 
river. 

"The  long  file  on  the  rough-paved  path, 
dragging  the  weighty  train  of  boats,  in  spite 
of  the  impetuous  waters,  trudges  steadily  along. 
And  beneath  the  lofty  branches  of  the  great 
white  poplars,  in  the  stillness  of  the  Rhone 
valley,  in  the  splendor  of  the  rising  sun,  walk- 
ing beside  the  straining  horses  that  drive  a 
mist  from  their  nostrils,  the  first  driver  says 
the  prayer." 

With  each  succeeding  poem  the  vocabulary 
of  Mistral  seems  to  grow,  along  with  the  bold- 
ness of  expression.  All  his  poems  he  has 
himself  translated  into  French,  and  these  trans- 
lations are  remarkable  in  more  than  one  respect. 
That  of  the  Poem  of  the  Rhone  is  especially 
full  of  rare  French  words,  and  it  cannot  be 
imputed  to  the  leader  of  the  Provengal  poets 
that  he  is  not  past  master  of  the  French  vocab- 
ulary.     Often    his    French   expression   is   as 


THE  FOUR  LONGER  POEMS  179 

strange  as  the  original.  Not  many  French 
writers  would  express  themselves  as  he  does  in 
the  following:  — 

"  Et  il  tressaille  de  jumeler  le  nonchaloir  de 
sa  jeunesse  au  renouveau  de  la  belle  ingenue." 

In  this  translation,  also,  more  than  in  the 
preceding,  there  is  occasionally  an  affectation 
of  archaism,  which  rather  adds  to  than  detracts 
from  the  poetic  effect  of  his  prose,  and  the 
number  of  lines  in  the  prose  translation  that  are 
really  ten-syllable  verses  is  quite  remarkable. 
On  one  page  (page  183  of  the  third  edition, 
Lemerre)  more  than  half  the  lines  are  verses. 

Is  the  Poem  of  the  Rhone  a  great  poem  ? 
Whether  it  is  or  not,  it  accomplishes  admirably 
the  purpose  of  its  author,  to  fix  in  beautiful 
verse  the  former  life  of  the  Rhone.  That  much 
of  it  is  prosaic  was  inevitable;  the  nature  of 
the  subject  rendered  it  so.  It  is  full  of  beau- 
ties, and  the  poet  who  wrote  Mireio  and  com- 
pleted it  before  his  thirtieth  year,  has  shown 
that  in  the  last  decade  of  his  threescore  years 
and  ten  he  could  produce  a  work  as  full  of  fire, 
energy,  life,  and  enthusiasm  as  in  the  stirring 
days  when  the  Felibrige  was  young.  In  this 
poem  there    occurs   a   passage   put    into    the 


180  FRflDfeRIC   MISTRAL 

mouth  of  the  Prince,  which  gives  a  view  of  life 
that  we  suspect  is  the  poet's  own.  He  here 
calls  the  Prince  a  young  sage,  and  as  we  look 
back  over  Mistral's  life,  and  review  its  aims, 
and  the  conditions  in  which  he  has  striven,  we 
incline  to  think  that  here,  in  a  few  words,  he 
has  condensed  his  thought. 

"  For  what  is  life  but  a  dream,  a  distant 
appearance,  an  illusion  gliding  on  the  water, 
which,  fleeing  ever  before  our  eyes,  dazzles  us 
like  a  mirror  flashing,  entices  and  lures  us  on  I 
Ah,  how  good  it  is  to  sail  on  ceaselessly  toward 
one's  desire,  even  though  it  is  but  a  dream! 
The  time  will  come,  it  is  near,  perhaps,  when 
men  will  have  everything  within  their  reach, 
when  they  will  possess  everything,  when  they 
will  know  and  have  proved  everything;  and, 
regretting  the  old  mirages,  who  knows  but  what 
they  will  not  grow  weary  of  living  !  " 


CHAPTER  II 

LIS  ISCLO  D'OB 

The  lover  of  poetry  will  probably  find  more 
to  admire  and  cherish  in  this  volume  than  in 
any  other  that  has  come  from  the  pen  of  its 
author,  excepting,  possibly,  the  best  passages 
of  Mireio.  It  is  the  collection  of  his  short 
poems  that  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  dif- 
ferent Provencal  publications,  the  earliest  dat- 
ing as  far  back  as  1848,  the  latest  written  in 
1888.  They  are  a  very  complete  expression  of 
his  poetic  ideas,  and  contain  among  their  num- 
ber gems  of  purest  poesy.  The  poet's  lyre  has 
not  many  strings,  and  the  strains  of  sadness,  of 
pensive  melancholy,  are  almost  absent.  Mistral 
has  once,  and  very  successfully,  tried  the  theme 
of  Lamartine's  Lac^  of  Musset's  Souvenir^  of 
Hugo's  Tristesse  c?'  Olympio;  but  his  poem  is  not 
an  elegy,  it  has  not  the  intensity,  the  passion, 
the  deep  undertone  of  any  of  the  three  great 
Romanticists.      La  Fin  d6u  MeissouniS  is  a 

181 


182  FRf:Dl:RIC  MISTRAL 

beautiful,  pathetic,  and  touching  tale,  that  easily 
brings  a  tear,  and  Lou  Saume  de  la  Penitenci  is 
without  doubt  one  of  the  noblest  poems  inspired 
in  the  heart  of  any  Frenchman  by  the  disaster 
of  1870.  But  these  poems,  though  among  the 
best  according  to  the  feeling  for  poetry  of  a 
reader  from  northern  lands,  are  not  character- 
istic of  the  volume  in  general.  The  dominant 
strain  is  energy,  a  clarion-call  of  life  and  light, 
an  appeal  to  his  fellow-countrymen  to  be 
strong  and  independent;  the  sun  of  Provence, 
the  language  of  Provence,  the  ideals  of  Pro- 
vence, the  memories  of  Provence,  these  are  his 
themes.  His  poetry  is  not  personal,  but  social. 
Of  his  own  joys  and  sorrows  scarce  a  word, 
unless  we  say  what  is  doubtless  the  truth,  that 
his  joys  and  sorrows,  his  regrets  and  hopes,  are 
identical  with  those  of  his  native  land,  and  that 
he  has  blended  his  being  completely  with  the 
life  about  him.  The  volume  contains  a  great 
number  of  pieces  written  for  special  occasions, 
for  the  gatherings  of  the  Felibres,  for  their 
weddings..  Many  of  them  are  addressed  to 
persons  in  France  and  out,  who  have  been  in 
various  ways  connected  with  the  Felibrige. 
Of  these  the  greeting  to  Lamartine  is  especially 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  183 

felicitous  in  expression,  and  the  following  stanza 
from  it  forms  the  dedication  of  Mir  Ho: — 

"  Te  counsacre  Mireio :  eo  moun  cor  e  moun  amo, 
Es  la  flour  de  mis  an ; 
Es  un  rasin  de  Crau  qu'  em^  touto  sa  ramo 
Te  porge  un  paisan." 

The  entire  poem,  literally  translated,  is  as 
follows :  — 

If  I  have  the  good  fortune  to  see  my  bark  early  upon 

the  waves, 

Without  fear  of  winter, 
Blessings  upon  thee,  O  divine  Lamartine, 
Who  hast  taken  the  helm ! 

If  my  prow  bears  a  bouquet  of  blooming  laurel. 

It  is  thou  hast  made  it  for  me ; 
If  iny  sail  swelleth,  it  is  the  breath  of  thy  glory 

That  bloweth  it. 

Therefore,  like  a  pilot  who  of  a  fair  church 

Clirabeth  the  hill 
And  upon  the  altar  of  the  saint  that  hath  saved  him 
at  sea 

Hangeth  a  miniature  ship. 

I  consecrate  Mireio  to  thee ;  'tis  my  heart  and  my  soul, 

'Tis  the  flower  of  my  years; 
'Tis  a  cluster  of  grapes  from  the  Crau  that  with  all  its 
leaves 

A  peasant  offers  thee. 


184  FRifeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

Grenerous  as  a  king,  when  thou  broughtest  me  fame 

In  the  midst  of  Paris, 
Thou  knowest  that,  in  thy  home,  the  day  thou  saidst 
to  me, 

"  Tu  Marcellus  eris  1 " 

Like  the  pomegranate  in  the  ripening  sunbeam, 

My  heart  opened. 
And,  unable  to  find  more  tender  speech. 

Broke  out  in  tears. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  the  earliest 
poem  of  our  author,  La  Bello  d^Avoust,  is  a  tale 
of  the  supernatural,  a  poem  of  mystery ;  it  is  an 
order  of  poetic  inspiration  rather  rare  in  his 
work,  and  this  first  poem  is  quite  as  good  as 
anything  of  its  kind  to  be  found  in  Mireio  or 
Nerto.  It  has  the  form  of  a  song  with  the 
refrain :  — 

Ye  little  nightingales,  ye  grasshoppers,  be  still! 
Hear  the  song  of  the  beauty  of  August ! 

Margai  of  Val-Mairane,  intoxicated  with 
love,  goes  down  into  the  plain  two  hours  before 
the  day.  Descending  the  hill,  she  is  wild. 
"  In  vain,"  she  says,  "  I  seek  him,  I  have  missed 
him.     Ah,  my  heart  trembles." 

The  poem  is  full  of  imagery,  delicate  and 
pretty.     Margai  is  so  lovely  that  in  the  clouds 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  185 

the  moon,  enshrouded,  says  to  the  cloud  very 
softly,  "  Cloud,  beautiful  cloud,  pass  away,  my 
face  would  let  fall  a  ray  on  Margai,  th}^  shadow 
hinders  me."  And  the  bird  offers  to  console 
her,  and  the  glow-worm  offers  his  light  to 
guide  her  to  her  lover.  Margai  comes  and 
goes  until  she  meets  her  lover  in  the  shadow 
of  the  trees.  She  tells  of  her  weeping,  of  the 
moon,  the  birdling,  and  the  glow-worm.  "  But 
thy  brow  is  dark,  art  thou  ill  ?  Shall  I  return 
to  my  father's  house  ?  " 

"  If  my  face  is  sad,  on  my  faith,  it  is  because 
a  black  moth  hovering  about  hath  alarmed 
me." 

And  Margai  says,  "  Thy  voice,  once  so  sweet, 
to-day  seems  a  trembling  sound  beneath  the 
earth;  I  shudder  at  it." 

"  If  my  voice  is  so  hoarse,  it  is  because  while 
waiting  for  thee  I  lay  upon  my  back  in  the 
grass." 

"  I  was  dying  with  longing,  but  now  it  is 
with  fear.  For  the  day  of  our  elopement,  be- 
loved, thou  wearest  mourning  !  " 

"  If  my  cloak  be  sombre  and  black,  so  is  the 
night,  and  yet  the  night  also  glimmers." 

When  the  star  of  the  shepherds  began  to 


186  FR6d6rIC  mistral 

pale,  and  when  the  king  of  stars  was  about  to 
appear,  suddenly  off  they  went,  upon  a  black 
horse.  And  the  horse  flew  on  the  stony  road, 
and  the  ground  shook  beneath  the  lovers,  and 
'tis  said  fantastic  witches  danced  about  them 
until  day,  laughing  loudly. 

Then  the  white  moon  wrapped  herself  again, 
the  birdling  on  the  branch  flew  off  in  fright, 
even  the  glow-worm,  poor  little  thing,  put  out 
his  lamp,  and  quickly  crept  away  under  the 
grass.  And  it  is  said  that  at  the  wedding  of 
poor  Margai  there  was  little  feasting,  little 
laughing,  and  the  betrothal  and  the  dancing 
took  place  in  a  spot  where  fire  was  seen 
through  the  crevices. 

"Vale  of  Val-Mairane,  road  to  the  Baux, 
never  again  o'er  hill  or  plain  did  ye  see 
Margai.  Her  mother  prays  and  weeps,  and 
will  not  have  enough  of  speaking  of  her 
lovely  shepherdess." 

This  weird,  legendary  tale  was  composed  in 
1848.  The  next  effort  of  the  poet  is  one  of  his 
masterpieces,  wherein  his  inspiration  is  truest 
and  most  poetical.  La  Fin  d6u  MeusouniS 
(The  Reaper's  Death)  is  a  noble,  genuinely 
pathetic  tale,  told  in  beautifully  varied  verse, 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  187 

full  of  the  love  of  field  work,  and  aglow  with 
sympathy  for  the  toilers.  The  figure  of  the 
old  man,  stricken  down  suddenly  by  an  acci- 
dental blow  from  the  scythe  of  a  young  man 
mowing  behind  him,  as  he  lies  dying  on  the 
rough  ground,  urging  the  gleaners  to  go  on 
and  not  mind  him,  praying  to  Saint  John, — the 
patron  of  the  harvesters,  —  is  one  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. The  description  of  the  mowing,  the 
long  line  of  toilers  with  their  scythes,  the 
fierce  sun  making  their  blood  boil,  the  sheaves 
falling  by  hundreds,  the  ruddy  grain  waving 
in  the  breath  of  the  mistral,  the  old  chief  lead- 
ing the  band,  "the  strong  affection  that  urged 
the  men  on  to  cut  down  the  harvest,"  —  all  is 
vividly  pictured,  and  foretells  the  future  poet 
of  Mireio.  The  words  of  the  old  man  are  full 
of  his  energy  and  faith :  "  The  wheat,  swollen 
and  ripe,  is  scattering  in  the  summer  wind ;  do 
not  leave  to  the  birds  and  ants,  O  binders,  the 
wheat  that  comes  from  God !  "  "  What  good 
is  your  weeping?  better  sing  with  the  young 
fellows,  for  I,  before  you  all,  have  finished  my 
task.  Perhaps,  in  the  land  where  I  shall  be 
presently,  it  will  be  hard  for  me,  when  evening 
comes,  to  hear  no  more,  stretched  out  upon  the 


188  FR^D^RIC   MISTRAL 

grass,  as  I  used  to,  the  strong,  clear  singing  of 
the  youth  rising  up  amid  the  trees ;  but  it  ap- 
pears, friends,  that  it  was  my  star,  or  perhaps 
the  Master,  the  One  above,  seeing  the  ripe 
grain,  gathers  it  in.  Come,  come,  good-by,  I 
am  going  gently.  Then,  children,  when  you 
carry  off  the  sheaves  upon  the  cart,  take  away 
your  chief  on  the  load  of  wheat." 

And  he  begs  Saint  John  to  remember  his  olive 
trees,  his  family,  who  will  sup  at  Christmas-tide 
without  him.  "  If  sometimes  I  have  murmured, 
forgive  me  I  The  sickle,  meeting  a  stone,  cries 
out,  O  master  Saint  John,  the  friend  of  God, 
patron  of  the  reapers,  father  of  the  poor,  up 
there  in  Paradise,  remember  me." 

And  after  the  old  man's  death  "  the  reapers, 
silent,  sickle  in  hand,  go  on  with  the  work 
in  haste,  for  the  hot  mistral  was  shaking  the 
ears." 

Among  these  earlier  poems  are  found  some 
cleverly  told,  homely  tales,  with  a  pointed 
moral.  Such  are  La  Plueio  (The  Rain),  La 
Rascladuro  de  Petrin  (The  Scraping  from  the 
Kneading-trough).  They  are  really  excellent, 
and  teach  the  lesson  that  the  tillers  of  the  soil 
have   a  holy  calling,  of  which   they   may   be 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  189 

proud,  and  that  God  sends  them  health  and 
happiness,  peace  and  liberty.  The  second  of 
the  poems  just  mentioned  is  a  particularly 
amusing  story  of  choosing  a  wife  according  to 
the  care  she  takes  of  her  kneading-trough,  the 
idea  being  derived  from  an  old  fablieau.  There 
are  one  or  two  others  purely  humorous  and 
capitally  told.  After  1860,  however,  the  poet 
abandoned  these  homely,  simple  tales,  that 
doubtless  realized  Roumanille's  ideas  of  one 
aspect  of  the  literary  revival  he  was  seeking 
to  bring  about. 

The  poems  are  not  arranged  chronologically, 
but  are  classified  as  Songs,  Romances,  Sirventes, 
Reveries,  Plaints,  Sonnets,  Nuptial  Songs,  etc. 

The  Cansoun  (Songs)  are  sung  at  every 
reunion  of  the  Felibrige.  They  are  set  to 
melodies  well  known  in  Provence,  and  are 
spirited  and  vigorous  indeed.  The  Germans 
who  write  about  Provence  are  fond  of  making 
known  the  fact  that  the  air  of  the  famous 
Hymn  to  the  Sun  is  a  melody  written  by 
Kuecken.  There  is  Lou  Bastimen  (The  Ship), 
as  full  of  dash  and  go  as  any  English  sea  bal- 
lad. La  Coutigo  (The  Tickling)  is  a  dialogue 
between  a  mother  and  her  love-sick  son.     La 


190  FRfeD^RIC   MISTRAL 

Coupo  (The  Cup)  is  the  song  of  the  Felibres 
jpar  excellence;  it  was  composed  for  the  recep- 
tion of  a  silver  cup,  sent  to  the  Felibres  by  the 
Catalans.  The  coupo  felibrenco  is  now  a  feature 
of  all  their  banquets.  The  song  expresses  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Felibres  for  their  cause.  The 
refrain  is,  "  Holy  cup,  overflowing,  pour  out  in 
plenty  the  enthusiasms  and  the  energy  of  the 
strong."     The  most  significant  lines  are :  — 

Of  a  proud,  free  people 
We  are  perhaps  the  end; 
And,  if  the  Felibres  fall, 
Our  nation  will  fall. 

Of  a  race  that  germs  anew 
Perhaps  we  are  the  first  growth ; 
Of  our  land  we  are  perhaps 
The  pillars  and  the  chiefs. 

Pour  out  for  us  hope 
And  dreams  of  youth. 
The  memory  of  the  past 
And  faith  in  the  coming  year. 

The  ideas  and  sentiments,  then,  that  are  ex- 
pressed in  the  shorter  poems  of  Mistral,  written 
since  the  publication  of  Mireio^  have  been,  in 
the  main,  the  ancient  glories  and  liberties  of 
Provence,  a  clinging  to  national  traditions,  to 


LIS  ISCLO   D'OR  191 

local  traditions,  and  to  the  religion  and  ideas 
of  ancestors,  a  profound  dislike  of  certain 
modern  ideas  of  progress,  hatred  of  the  level- 
ling influence  of  Paris,  love  of  the  Provengal 
speech,  belief  in  the  Latin  race,  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  unshaken  faith  in  the  future, 
love  of  the  ideal  and  hatred  of  what  is  servile 
and  sordid,  an  ardent  love  of  Nature,  an  intense 
love  of  life  and  movement.  These  things  are 
reflected  in  every  variety  of  word  and  figure. 
He  is  not  the  poet  of  the  romantic  type,  self- 
centred,  filling  his  verse  with  the  echoes  of  his 
own  loves  and  joys  and  woes,  nor  is  his  poetry 
as  large  as  humanity;  Provence,  France,  the 
Latin  race,  are  the  limits  beyond  which  it  has 
no  message  or  interest. 

Possibly  no  poet  ever  wrote  as  many  lines  to 
laud  the  language  he  was  using.  Such  lines 
abound  in  each  volume  he  has  produced. 

"  Se  la  lengo  di  moussu 

Toumbo  en  gargavaio 
Se  tant  d'escrivan  coussu 

Pescon  de  ravaio, 
Nkutri,  li  bon  Prouven9au 
Vers  li  serre  li  plus  aut 

Enauren  la  lengo 

De  nosti  valengo." 


192  FRl:DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

If  the  language  of  the  messieurs  falls  among  the 
sweepings,  if  so  many  comfortably  well-off  writers 
fish  for  small  fry,  we,  the  good  Proven9als,  toward 
the  highest  summits,  raise  the  language  of  our 
valleys. 

The  Sirventes  addressed  to  the  Catalan  poets 
begins  :  — 

"  Fraire  de  Catalougno,  escoutas  I    Nous  an  di 
Que  fasias  peralin  revieure  e  resplendi 
Un  di  rampau  de  nosto  lengo." 

Brothers  from  Catalonia,  listen!  We  have  heard 
that  ye  cause  one  of  the  branches  of  our  language  to 
revive  and  flourish  yonder. 

In  the  same  poem,  the  poet  sings  of  the  Trou- 
badours, whom  none  have  since  surpassed,  who 
in  the  face  of  the  clergy  raised  the  language 
of  the  common  people,  sang  in  the  very  ears  of 
the  kings,  sang  with  love,  and  sang  freely, 
the  coming  of  a  new  world  and  contempt  for 
ancient  fears,  and  later  on  he  says :  — 

"From  the  Alps  to  the  Pyrenees,  hand  in 
hand,  poets,  let  us  then  raise  up  the  old  Romance 
speech  !  It  is  the  sign  of  the  family,  the  sacra- 
ment that  binds  the  sons  to  the  forefathers,  man 
to  the  soil  !  It  is  the  thread  that  holds  the 
nest  in  the  branches.      Fearless  guardians  of 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  193 

our  beautiful  speech,  let  us  keep  it  free  and 
pure,  and  bright  as  silver,  for  a  whole  people 
drinks  at  this  spring  ;  for  when,  with  faces  on 
the  ground,  a  people  falls  into  slavery,  if  it 
holds  its  language,  it  holds  the  key  that  delivers 
it  from  the  chains." 

The  final  stanza  of  the  poem,  written  in  honor 
of  Jasmin  in  1870,  is  as  follows  :  — 

"For  our  dead  and  our  fathers,  and  our 
sacred  rights  as  a  people  and  as  poets,  that 
yesterday  were  trampled  beneath  the  feet  of 
the  usurper,  and,  outraged,  cried  out,  now  live 
again  in  glory  !  Now,  between  the  two  seas 
the  language  of  Oc  triumphs.  O  Jasmin,  thou 
hast  avenged  us  !  " 

In  the  Rock  of  Sisyphus  the  poet  says, 
"  Formerly  we  kept  the  language  that  Nature 
herself  put  upon  our  lips." 

In  the  Poem  to  the  Latin  Race  we  read :  — 

"Thy  mother  tongue,  the  great  stream  that 
spreads  abroad  in  seven  branches,  pouring  out 
love  and  light  like  an  echo  from  Paradise,  thy 
golden  speech,  O  Romance  daughter  of  the 
King-People,  is  the  song  •  that  will  live  on 
human  lips  as  long  as  speech  shall  have 
reason." 


194  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

Elsewhere  we  find  :  — 

"  Oh,  maintain  thy  historic  speech.  It  is  the 
proof  that  always  thou  carriest  on  high  and 
free,  thy  coat  of  arms.  In  the  language,  a 
mystery,  an  old  treasure  is  found.  Each  year 
the  nightingale  puts  on  new  plumage,  but  keeps 
its  song." 

One  entire  poem,  Espouscado^  is  a  bitterly 
indignant  protest  against  those  who  would  sup- 
press the  dialect,  against  the  regents  and  the 
rectors  whom  "  we  must  pay  with  our  pennies 
to  hear  them  scoff  at  the  language  that  binds 
us  to  our  fathers  and  our  soil !  "  And  the  poet 
cries  out,  "No,  no,  we'll  keep  our  rebellious 
langue  d'oc,  grumble  who  will.  We'll  speak  it 
in  the  stables,  at  harvest-time,  among  the  silk- 
worms, among  lovers,  among  neighbors,  etc., 
etc.  It  shall  be  the  language  of  joy  and  of 
brotherhood.  We'll  joke  and  laugh  with  it; 
—  and  as  for  the  army,  we'll  take  it  to  the 
barracks  to  keep  off  homesickness." 

And  his  anger  rising,  he  exclaims  :  — 

"  O  the  fools,  the  fools,  who  wean  their  chil- 
dren from  it  to  stuff  them  with  self-sufficiency, 
fatuity,  and  hunger  !  Let  them  get  drowned 
in  the  throng  !     But  thou,  O  my  Provence,  be 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  195 

not  disturbed  about  the  sons  that  disown  thee 
and  repudiate  thy  speech.  They  are  dead,  they 
are  still-born  children  that  survive,  fed  on  bad 
milk." 

And  he  concludes  :  — 

"But,  eldest  born  of  Nature,  you,  the  sun- 
browned  boys,  who  speak  with  the  maidens  in 
the  ancient  tongue,  fear  not  -,  you  shall  remain 
the  masters  !  Like  the  walnuts  of  the  plain, 
gnarled,  stout,  cahn,  motionless,  exploited  and 
ill-treated  as  you  may  be,  O  peasants  (as 
they  call  you),  you  will  remain  masters  of  the 
land!" 

This  was  written  in  1888.  The  quotations 
might  be  multiplied ;  these  suffice,  however,  to 
show  the  intense  love  of  the  poet  for  "  the  lan- 
guage of  the  soil,"  the  energy  with  which  he 
has  constantly  struggled  for  its  maintenance. 
He  is  far  from  looking  upon  the  multiplication 
of  dialects  as  an  evil,  points  to  the  literary  glory 
of  Greece  amid  her  many  forms  of  speech,  and 
does  not  even  seek  to  impose  his  own  language 
upon  the  rest  of  southern  France.  He  sym- 
pathizes with  every  attempt,  wherever  made, 
the  world  over,  to  raise  up  a  patois  into  a  lan- 
guage.    Statesmen  will  probably  think  other- 


196  rRi2Di:Ric  mistral 

wise,  and  there  are  nations  which  would  at  once 
take  an  immense  stride  forward  if  they  could 
attain  one  language  and  a  purely  national  lit- 
erature. The  modern  world  does  not  appear 
to  be  marching  in  accordance  with  Mistral's 
view. 

The  poems  inspired  by  the  love  of  the  ancient 
ideals  and  literature  of  Provence  are  very  beau- 
tiful. They  have  in  general  a  fascinating 
swing  and  rhythm,  and  are  filled  with  charming 
imagery.  One  of  the  best  is  L'Amiradou  (The 
Belvedere),  the  story  of  a  fairy  imprisoned  in 
the  castle  at  Tarascon,  "who  will  doubtless 
love  the  one  who  shall  free  her."  Three 
knights  attempt  the  rescue  and  fail.  Then 
there  comes  along  a  little  Troubadour,  and 
sings  so  sweetly  of  the  prowess  of  his  fore- 
fathers, of  the  splendor  of  the  Latin  race,  that 
the  guard  are  charmed  and  the  bolts  fly  back. 
And  the  fairy  goes  up  to  the  top  of  the  tower 
with  the  little  Troubadour,  and  they  stand 
mute  with  love,  and  look  out  over  all  the 
beautiful  landscape,  and  the  old  monuments  of 
Provence  with  their  lessons.  This  is  the  king- 
dom of  the  fairy,  and  she  bestows  it  upon  him. 
"  For  he  who  knows  how  to  read  in  this  radiant 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  197 

book,  must  grow  above  all  others,  and  all  that 
his  eye  beholds,  without  paying  any  tithe,  is  his 
in  abundance." 

The  lilt  of  this  little  romance^  with  its  pretty 
repetitions,  is  delightful,  and  the  symbolism  is, 
of  course,  perfectly  obvious. 

There  is  the  touching  story  of  the  Trouba- 
dour Catalan,  slain  by  robbers  in  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne,  where  the  Pre  de  Catalan  now  is  ; 
there  is  the  tale  that  accounts  for  the  great 
chain  that  hangs  across  the  gorge  at  Moustiers, 
a  chain  over  six  hundred  feet  long,  bearing  a 
star  in  the  centre.  A  knight,  being  prisoner 
among  the  Saracens,  vows  to  hang  the  chain 
before  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin,  if  ever  he  re- 
turns home. 

"  A  ti  ped,  vierge  Mario, 
Ma  cadeno  penjarai, 
Se  jamai 
Tourne  mai 
A  Mousti^,  dins  ma  patrio  I  " 

There  is  the  tale  of  the  Princess  Clemence, 
daughter  of  a  king  of  Provence.  Her  father 
was  deformed,  and  the  heir-presumptive  to  the 
French  crown  sought  her  in  marriage.  In 
order  that   the   prince  might  be  sure  she  had 


198  FR^DfeRIC  MISTRAL 

inherited  none  of  the  father's  deformity,  she 
was  called  upon  to  show  herself  in  the  garb 
of  Lady  Godiva  before  his  ambassadors.  This 
rather  delicate  subject  is  handled  with  consum- 
mate art. 

The  idea  of  federalism  is  found  expressed 
with  sufficient  clearness  in  various  parts  of  these 
poems  of  the  Golden  Isles,  and  the  patriotism 
of  the  poet,  his  love  of  France,  is  perfectly  evi- 
dent, in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  to  the 
contrary.  In  the  poem  addressed  to  the  Cat- ' 
alans,  after  numerous  allusions  to  the  dissen- 
sions and  rebellions  of  bygone  days,  we  read :  — 

"Now,  however,  it  is  clear;  now,  however, 
we  know  that  in  the  divine  order  all  is  for  the 
best ;  the  Proven9als,  a  unanimous  flame,  are 
part  of  great  France,  frankly,  loyally ;  the  Cat- 
alans, with  good-will,  are  part  of  magnanimous 
Spain.  For  the  brook  must  flow  to  the  sea,  and 
the  stone  must  fall  on  the  heap ;  the  wheat  is 
best  protected  from  the  treacherous  cold  wind 
when  planted  close  ;  and  the  little  boats,  if 
they  are  to  navigate  safely,  when  the  waves  are 
black  and  the  air  dark,  must  sail  together.  For 
it  is  good  to  be  many,  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  say, 
'  We  are  children  of  France  I '  " 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  199 

But  in  days  of  peace  let  each  province  de- 
velop its  own  life  in  its  own  way. 

"And  France  and  Spain,  when  they  see  their 
children  warming  themselves  together  in  the 
sunbeams  of  the  fatherland,  singing  matins  out 
of  the  same  book,  will  say,  '  The  children  have 
sense  enough,  let  them  laugh  and  play  together, 
now  they  are  old  enough  to  be  free.' 

"And  we  shall  see,  I  promise  you,  the  ancient 
freedom  come  down,  O  happiness,  upon  the 
smallest  city,  and  love  alone  bind  the  races 
together;  and  if  ever  the  black  talon  of  t!ie 
tyrant  is  seen,  all  the  races  will  bound  up  to 
drive  out  the  bird  of  prey!" 

Of  all  the  poems  of  Mistral  expressing  this 
order  of  ideas,  the  one  entitled  The  Countess 
made  the  greatest  stir.  It  appeared  in  1866, 
and  called  forth  much  angry  discussion  and 
imputation  of  treason  from  the  enemies  of  the 
new  movement.  The  Countess  is  an  allegorical 
representation  of  Provence ;  the  fair  descend- 
ant of  imperial  ancestors  is  imprisoned  in  a  con- 
vent by  her  half-sister  France.  Formerly  she 
possessed  a  hundred  fortified  towns,  twenty 
seaports  ;  she  had  olives,  fruit,  and  grain  in 
abundance;    a  great  river  watered  her  fields; 


200  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

a  great  wind  vivified  the  land,  and  the  proud 
noblewoman  could  live  without  her  neighbor, 
and  she  sang  so  sweetly  that  all  loved  her, 
poets  and  suitors  thronged  about  her. 

Now,  in  the  convent  where  she  is  cloistered 
all  are  dressed  alike,  all  obey  the  rule  of  the 
same  bell,  all  joy  is  gone.  The  half-sister  has 
broken  her  tambourines  and  taken  away  her 
vineyards,  and  gives  out  that  her  sister  is  dead. 

Then  the  poet  breaks  into  an  appeal  to  the 
strong  to  break  into  the  great  convent,  to  hang 
the  abbess,  and  say  to  the  Countess,  "  Appear 
again,  O  splendor  !  Away  with  grief,  away ! 
Long  life  to  joy!  " 

Each  stanza  is  followed  by  the  refrain :  — 

"Ah!  se  me  sabien  entendre  I 
Ah  I  se  me  voulien  seguil  " 

Ah !  if  they  could  understand  me  I 
Ah !  if  they  would  follow  me  1 

Mistral  disdained  to  reply  to  the  storm  of 
accusations  and  incriminations  raised  by  the 
publication  of  this  poem.  Lou  Saume  de  la 
Penitenoiy  that  appeared  in  1870,  set  at  rest 
all  doubts  concerning  his  deep  and  sincere 
patriotism. 

Uhe  Psalm  of  Penitence  is  possibly  the  finest 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  201 

of  the  short  poems.     It  is  certainly  surpassed 

by  no  other  in  intensity  of  feeling,  in  genuine 

inspiration,  in  nobility  and  beauty  of  expression. 

It  is  a  hymn  of  sorrow  over  the  woes  of  France, 

a  prayer  of  humility  and  resignation  after  the 

disaster  of  1870.     The  reader  must  accept  the 

idea,  of  course,  that  the  defeat  of  the  French 

was  a  visitation  of  Providence  in  punishment 

for  sin. 

"  Segnour,  h  la  fin  ta  coul^ro 

Largo  si  tron 
Sus  nosti  front : 
E  dins  la  nine  nosto  galero 
Pico  d'a  pro 
Contro  li  ro." 

Lord,  at  last  thy  wrath  hurls  its  thunderbolts  upon 
our  foreheads : 

And  in  the  night  our  vessel  strikes  its  prow  against 
the  rocks. 

France  was  punished  for  irreligion,  for  clos- 
ing the  temples,  for  abandoning  the  sacraments 
and  commandments,  for  losing  faith  in  all  ex- 
cept selfish  interest  and  so-called  progress,  for 
contempt  of  the  Bible  and  pride  in  science. 

The  poet  makes  confession :  — 

"  Segnour,  sian  tis  enfant  proudigue ; 
Mai  nkutri  sian 
Ti  vifei  crestian : 


202  FRfeDfeRIC   MISTRAL 

Que  ta  Justigo  nous  castigue, 
Mai  au  trepas 
Nous  laisses  pas  I  " 

Lord,  we  are  thy  prodigal  sons;  but  we  are  thy 
Christians  of  old: 

Let  thy  justice  chastise  us,  but  give  us  not  over  unto 
death  1 

Then  the  poet  prays  in  the  name  of  all  the 
brave  men  who  gave  up  their  lives  in  battle,  in 
the  name  of  all  the  mothers  who  will  never 
again  see  their  sons,  in  the  name  of  the  poor, 
the  strong,  the  dead,  in  the  name  of  all  the 
defeats  and  tears  and  sorrow,  the  slaughter  and 
the  fires,  the  affronts  endured,  that  God  disarm 
his  justice,  and  he  concludes :  — 

"  Segnour,  voulen  deveni  d'ome ; 
En  liberty. 
Pos  nous  bouta  I 
Sian  Gau-Rouraan  e  gentilome, 
E  marchan  dre 
Dins  noste  endrd. 

"  Segnour,  ddu  mau  sian  pas  I'encauso. 
Mando  ei<;abas 
Un  rai  de  pas  I 
Segnour,  ajudo  nosto  Causo, 
E  reviduren 
E  t'amaren." 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  203 

Lord,  we  desire  to  become  men ;  thou  canst  set  us  free  ! 

We  are  Gallo-Romans  and  of  noble  race,  and  we  walk 
upright  in  our  land. 

Lord,  we  are  not  the  cause  of  the  evil.  Send  down 
upon  us  a  ray  of  peace !  Lord,  aid  our  Cause,  and  we 
shall  live  again  and  love  thee. 

The  poem  called  The  Stone  of  Sisyphus  com- 
pletes sufficiently  the  evidence  necessary  to  ex- 
culpate Mistral  of  the  charge  of  antipatriotism 
and  makes  clear  his  thought.  Provence  was 
once  a  nation,  she  consented  years  ago  to  lose 
her  identity  in  the  union  with  France.  Now 
it  is  proposed  to  heap  up  all  the  old  traditions, 
the  Gai  Savoir,  the  glory  of  the  Troubadours,  the 
old  language,  the  old  customs,  and  burn  them 
on  a  pyre.  Well,  France  is  a  great  people  and 
Vive  la  nation.  But  some  would  go  further, 
some  would  suppress  the  nation  :  "  Down  with 
the  frontiers,  national  glories  are  an  abomi- 
nation !  Wipe  out  the  past,  man  is  God  !  Vive 
rhumanitS  f"  Our  patrimony  we  repudiate. 
What  are  Joan  of  Arc,  Saint  Louis,  and  Tu- 
renne?     All  that  is  old  rubbish. 

Then  the  people  cry  with  Victor  Hugo, 
^^  JEmperaire,  siegues  maudi,  maudi,  maudi! 
nous  as  vendu"  and  hurl  down  the  Vendome 
column,  burn  Paris,  slaughter  the  priests,  and 


204  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

then,  worn  out,  commence  again,  like  Sisyphus, 
to  push  the  rock  of  progress. 

So  much  for  the  conservatism  of  Mistral. 

We  shall  conclude  this  story  of  the  shorter 
poems  with  some  that  are  not  polemical  or 
essentially  Provencal;  three  or  four  are  espe- 
cially noteworthy.  The  Drummer  of  Arcole,  Lou 
Prego-Bieu,  Rescontre  (Meeting),  might  prop- 
erly find  a  place  in  any  anthology  of  general 
poetry,  and  an  ode  on  the  death  of  Lamartine 
is  sincere  and  beautiful.  Such  poems  must  be 
read  in  the  original. 

The  first  one,  The  Drummer  of  Arcole^  is  the 
story  of  a  drummer  boy  who  saved  the  day  at 
Arcole  by  beating  the  charge;  but  after  the 
wars  are  over,  he  is  forgotten,  and  remains  a 
drummer  as  before,  becomes  old  and  regrets 
his  life  given  up  to  the  service  of  his  country. 
But  one  day,  passing  along  the  streets  of  Paris, 
he  chances  to  look  up  at  the  Pantheon,  and 
there  in  the  huge  pediment  he  reads  the  words, 
^^  Aux  grands  hommes  la  patrie  reconnaissante.^'' 

" '  Drummer,  raise  thy  head ! '  calls  out  a 
passer-by !  '  The  one  up  there,  hast  thou  seen 
him?'  Toward  the  temple  that  stood  superb 
the  old  man  raised  his  bewildered  eyes.     Just 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  206 

then  the  joyous  sun  shook  his  golden  locks 
above  enchanted  Paris  .  .  . 

"  When  the  soldier  saw  the  dome  of  the  Pan- 
theon rising  toward  heaven,  and  with  his  drum 
hanging  at  his  side,  beating  the  charge,  as  if  it 
were  real,  he  recognized  himself,  the  boy  of 
Arcole,  away  up  there,  right  at  the  side  of 
the  great  Napoleon,  intoxicated  with  his  for- 
mer fury,  seeing  himself,  so  high,  in  full  relief, 
above  the  years,  the  clouds,  the  storms,  in 
glory,  azure,  sunshine,  he  felt  a  gentle  swell- 
ing in  his  heart,  and  fell  dead  upon  the  pave- 
ment." 

Lou  Prego-DiSu  is  a  sweet  poem  embodying 
a  popular  belief.  Prego-dieu  is  the  name  of  a 
little  insect,  so  called  from  the  peculiar  arrange- 
ment of  its  legs  and  antennae  that  makes  it  ap- 
pear to  be  in  an  attitude  of  prayer.  Mistral's 
poetic  ideas  have  been  largely  suggested  to  him 
by  popular  beliefs  and  the  stories  he  heard  at 
his  fireside  when  a  boy.  This  poem  is  one  of 
the  best  of  the  kind  he  has  produced,  and,  being 
eminently  characteristic,  will  find  juster  treat- 
ment in  a  literal  translation  than  in  a  commen- 
tary. The  first  half  was  written  during  the 
time  he  was  at  work  upon  Mireio,  in  1856,  the 


206  FR^DfeRIC   MISTRAL 

second  in  1874.     We  quote  the  first  stanza  in 
the  original,  for  the  sake  of  showing  its  rhythm. 

"  Ero  un  tantost  d'aquel  estieu 
Que  ni  vihave  ni  dourmi^u : 
Fasieu  miejour,  tau  que  me  plaise, 
Lou  cahess6u 
Toucant  lou  s6u 
A  I'aise." 


It  was  one  afternoon  this  summer,  while  I 
was  neither  awake  nor  asleep.  I  was  taking  a 
noon  siesta,  as  is  my  pleasure,  my  head  at  ease 
upon  the  ground. 

And  greenish  among  the  stubble,  upon  a 
spear  of  blond  barley,  with  a  double  row  of 
seeds,  I  saw  a  prego-dieu. 

"  Beautiful  insect,"  said  I,  "  I  have  heard  that, 
as  a  reward  for  thy  ceaseless  praying,  God  hath 
given  thee  the  gift  of  divination. 

"  Tell  me  now,  good  friend,  if  she  I  love  hath 
slept  well ;  tell  what  she  is  thinking  at  this 
hour,  and  what  she  is  doing ;  tell  me  if  she  is 
laughing  or  weeping." 

The  insect,  that  was  kneeling,  stirred  upon 
the  tube  of  the  tiny,  leaning  ear,  and  unfolded 
and  waved  his  little  wings. 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  207 

And  his  speech,  softer  than  the  softest  breath 
of  a  zephyr  wafted  in  a  wood,  sweet  and  mys- 
terious, reached  my  ear. 

"  I  see  a  maiden,"  said  he,  "  in  the  cool  shade 
beneath  a  cherry  tree;  the  waving  branches 
touch  her;  the  boughs  hang  thick  with  cherries. 

"  The  cherries  are  fully  ripe,  fragrant,  solid, 
red,  and,  amid  the  smooth  leaves,  make  one 
hungry,  and,  hanging,  tempt  one. 

"  But  the  cherry  tree  offers  in  vain  the  sweet- 
ness and  the  pleasing  color  of  its  bright,  firm 
fruit,  red  as  coral. 

"  She  sighs,  trying  to  see  if  she  can  jump  high 
enough  to  pluck  them.  Would  that  my  lover 
might  come !  He  would  climb  up,  and  throw 
them  down  into  my  apron." 

So  I  say  to  the  reapers :  "  Reapers,  leave  be- 
hind you  a  little  corner  uncut,  where,  during 
the  summer,  the  prego-dieu  may  have  shelter." 

II 

This  autumn,  going  down  a  sunken  road,  I 
wandered  off  across  the  fields,  lost  in  earthly 
thoughts. 

And,  once  more,  amid  the  stubble,  I  saw, 


208  FR:feD6RIC  MISTRAL 

clinging  to  a  tiny  ear  of  grain,  folded  up  in  his 
double  wing,  the  prego-dieu. 

"  Beautiful  insect,"  said  I  then,  "  I  have  heard 
that,  as  a  reward  for  thy  ceaseless  praying, 
God  hath  given  thee  the  gift  of  divination. 

"  And  that  if  some  child,  lost  amid  the  harvest 
fields,  asks  of  thee  his  way,  thou,  little  creature, 
showest  him  the  way  through  the  wheat. 

"  In  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  this  world,  I 
see  that  I,  poor  child,  am  astray;  for,  as  he 
grows,  man  feels  his  wickedness. 

"  In  the  grain  and  in  the  chaff,  in  fear  and  in 
pride,  in  budding  hope,  alas  for  me,  I  see  my  ruin. 

"  I  love  space,  and  I  am  in  chains ;  among 
thorns  I  walk  barefoot ;  Love  is  God,  and  Love 
sins ;  every  enthusiasm  after  action  is  disap- 
pointed. 

"  What  we  accomplished  is  wiped  out ;  brute 
instinct  is  satisfied,  and  the  ideal  is  not  reached ; 
we  must  be  born  amid  tears,  and  be  stung  among 
the  flowers. 

"  Evil  is  hideous,  and  it  smiles  upon  me  ;  the 
flesh  is  fair,  and  it  rots  ;  the  water  is  bitter,  and 
I  would  drink ;  I  am  languishing,  I  want  to  die 
and  yet  to  live. 

"  I  am  falling  faint  and  weary ;  O  pr^go-dieu, 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  209 

cause  some  slight  hope  of  something  true  to 
shine  upon  me  ;  show  me  the  way." 

And  straightway  I  saw  that  the  insect 
stretched  forth  its  slender  arm  toward  Heaven ; 
mysterious,  mute,  earnest,  it  was  praying. 

Such  reference  to  religious  doubt  is  else- 
where absent  from  Mistral's  work.  His  faith 
is  strong,  and  the  energy  of  his  life-work  has 
its  source  largely,  not  only  in  this  religious 
faith,  but  in  his  firm  belief  in  himself,  in  his 
race,  and  in  the  mission  he  has  felt  called  upon 
to  undertake.  Reflected  obviously  in  the  above 
poem  is  the  growth  of  the  poet  in  experience 
and  in  thought. 

Lastly,  among  the  poems  of  his  Iselo  d' Or^ 
we  wish  to  call  attention  to  one  that,  in  its 
theme,  recalls  Le  Lac^  La  Tristesse  d'  Olympio^ 
and  Le  Souvenir.  The  poet  comes  upon  the 
scene  of  his  first  love,  and  apostrophizes  the 
natural  objects  about  him.  All  four  poets 
intone  the  strain,  "  Ye  rocks  and  trees,  guard 
the  memory  of  our  love." 

"  O  coumbo  d'Uriage 
Bos  fresqueirous, 
Ounte  aven  fa  lou  viage 
Dis  amourous, 

P 


215  FR:feDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

O  van  qu'aven  noumado 

Noste  univers, 
Se  perdes  ta  ramado 

Gardo  mi  vers." 

O  vale  of  Uriage,  cool  wood,  where  we  made 
our  lovers'  journey ;  O  vale  that  we  called 
our  world,  if  thou  lose  thy  verdure,  keep  my 
verses. 

Ye  flowers  of  the  high  meadows  that  no  man 
knoweth,  watered  by  Alpine  snows,  ye  are  less 
pure  and  fresh  in  the  month  of  April  than  the 
little  mouth  that  smiles  for  me. 

Ye  thunders  and  stern  voices  of  the  peaks, 
murmurings  of  wild  woods,  torrents  from  the 
mountains,  there  is  a  voice  that  dominates  you 
aU,  the  clear,  beautiful  voice  of  my  love. 

Alas !  vale  of  Uriage,  we  may  never  return 
to  thy  leafy  nooks.  She,  a  star,  vanisheth  in 
air,  and  I,  folding  my  tent,  go  forth  into  the 
wilderness. 

Apart  from  the  intrinsic  worth  of  the  thought 
or  sentiment,  there  is  found  in  Mistral  the  es- 
sential gift  of  the  poet,  the  power  of  expression 
—  of  clothing  in  words  that  fully  embody  the 
meaning,  and  seem  to  sing,  in  spontaneous  musi- 
cal flow,  the  inner  inspiration.     He  is  superior 


LIS  ISCLO  D'OR  211 

to  tlie  other  poets  of  the  F^librige,  not  only 
in  the  energy,  the  vitality  of  his  personality, 
and  in  the  fertility  of  his  ideas,  but  also  in  this 
great  gift  of  language.  Even  if  he  creates  his 
vocabulary  as  he  goes  along,  somewhat  after 
the  fashion  of  Ronsard  and  the  Pleiade,  he  does 
this  in  strict  accordance  with  the  genius  of  his 
dialect,  fortunately  for  him,  untrammelled  by 
traditions,  and,  what  is  significant,  he  does  it 
acceptably.  He  is  the  master.  His  fellow- 
poets  proclaim  and  acclaim  his  supremacy. 
No  one  who  has  penetrated  to  any  degree 
into  the  genius  of  the  Romance  languages  can 
fail  to  agree  that  in  this  point  exists  a  master 
of  one  of  its  forms. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  TRAGEDY,  LA  RfeiNO  JANO 

The  peculiar  qualities  and  limitations  of  Mis- 
tral are  possibly  nowhere  better  evidenced  than 
in  this  play.  Full  of  charming  passages,  fre- 
quently eloquent,  here  and  there  very  poetic,  it 
is  scarcely  dramatic,  and  certainly  not  a  trag- 
edy either  of  the  French  or  the  Shakespearian 
type.  The  most  striking  lines,  the  most  elo- 
quent tirades,  arise  less  from  the  exigences  of 
the  drama  than  from  the  constant  desire  of  the 
poet  to  give  expression  to  his  love  of  Pro- 
vence. The  attention  of  the  reader  is  diverted 
at  every  turn  from  the  adventures  of  the  per- 
sons in  the  play  to  the  glories  and  the  beauties 
of  the  lovely  land  in  which  our  poet  was  born. 
The  matter  of  a  play  is  certainly  contained  in 
the  subject,  but  the  energy  of  the  author  has 
not  been  spent  upon  the  invention  of  strong 
situations,  upon  the  clash  of  wills,  upon  the 
212 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RfeiNO  JANO  213 

psychology  of  his  characters,  upon  the  interplay 
of  passions,  but  rather  upon  strengthening  in 
the  hearts  of  his  Provencal  hearers  the  love  of 
the  good  Queen  Joanna,  whose  life  has  some 
of  the  romance  of  that  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  upon  letting  them  hear  from  her  lips  and 
from  the  lips  of  her  courtiers  the  praises  of 
Provence. 

Mistral  enumerates  eight  dramatic  works 
treating  the  life  of  his  heroine.  They  are  a 
tragedy  in  five  acts  and  a  verse  by  Magnon 
(Paris,  1656),  called  Jeanne  P^,  reine  de  Naples; 
a  tragedy  in  five  acts  and  in  verse  by  Laharpe, 
produced  in  1781,  entitled,  Jeanne  de  Naples; 
an  opera-comique  in  three  acts,  the  book  by 
De  Leuven  and  Brunswick,  the  music  by  Mon- 
pon  and  Bordese,  produced  in  1840 ;  an  Italian 
tragedy,  La  Regina  Giovanna,  by  the  Marquis 
of  Casanova,  written  about  1840  ;  an  Italian 
opera,  the  libretto  by  Ghislanzoni,  who  is  known 
as  the  librettist  of  Aida^  the  music  by  Petrella 
(Milan,  1875)  ;  a  play  in  verse  by  Brunetti, 
called  G-iovanna  I  di  Napoli  (Naples,  1881)  ;  a 
Hungarian  play  by  Rakosi,  Johanna  es  JSndre, 
and  lastly  the  trilogy  of  Walter  Savage  Landor, 
Andi-ea  of  Hungary^   Criovanna  of  Naples,  and 


214  FRlfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

Fra  Rupert  (London,  1853).  Mistral's  play 
is  dated  May,  1890. 

It  may  be  said  concerning  the  work  of  Lan- 
der, which  is  a  poem  in  dramatic  form  rather 
than  a  play,  that  it  offers  scarcely  any  points  of 
resemblance  with  Mistral's  beyond  the  few  es- 
sential facts  in  the  lives  of  Andrea  and  Joanna. 
Both  poets  take  for  granted  the  innocence  of 
the  Queen.  It  is  worth  noting  that  Provence 
is  but  once  referred  to  in  the  entire  work  of  the 
English  poet. 

The  introduction  that  precedes  Mistral's  play 
quotes  the  account  of  the  life  of  the  Queen 
from  the  Dictionnaire  of  Moreri  (Lyons,  1681), 
which  we  here  translate. 

"  Giovanna,  first  of  the  name.  Queen  of  Jeru- 
salem, Naples,  and  Sicily,  Duchess  of  Apulia 
and  Calabria,  Countess  of  Provence,  etc.,  was  a 
daughter  of  Charles  of  Sicily,  Duke  of  Calabria, 
who  died  in  1328,  before  his  father  Robert,  and 
of  Marie  of  Valois,  his  second  wife.  She  was 
only  nineteen  years  of  age  when  she  assumed 
the  government  of  her  dominions  after  her 
grandfather's  death  in  1343.  She  had  already 
been  married  by  him  to  his  nephew,  Andrea  of 
Hungary.     This  was  not  a  happy  marriage ;  for 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  r4:IN0  JANO  215 

the  inclinations  of  both  were  extremely  con- 
trary, and  the  prince  was  controlled  by  a  Fran- 
ciscan monk  named  Robert,  and  the  princess  by 
a  washerwoman  called  Filippa  Catenese.  These 
indiscreet  advisers  brought  matters  to  extremes, 
so  that  Andrea  was  strangled  in  1345.  The 
disinterested  historians  state  ingenuously  that 
Joanna  was  not  guilty  of  this  crime,  although 
the  others  accuse  her  of  it.  She  married  again, 
on  the  2d  of  August,  1346.  Her  second  hus- 
band was  Louis  of  Tarento,  her  cousin ;  and 
she  was  obliged  to  leave  Naples  to  avoid  the 
armed  attack  of  Louis,  King  of  Hungary,  who 
committed  acts  of  extreme  violence  in  this 
state.  Joanna,  however,  quieted  all  these 
things  by  her  prudence,  and  after  losing  this 
second  husband,  on  the  25th  of  March,  1362, 
she  married  not  long  afterward  a  third,  James 
of  Aragon,  Prince  of  Majorca,  who,  however, 
tarried  not  long  with  her.  So  seeing  herself  a 
widow  for  the  third  time,  she  made  a  fourth 
match  in  1376  with  Otto  of  Brunswick,  of  the 
House  of  Saxony ;  and  as  she  had  no  children, 
she  adopted  a  relative,  Charles  of  Duras.  .  .  . 
This  ungrateful  prince  revolted  against  Queen 
Joanna,  his  benefactress.  .  .  .      He  captured 


216  FRlfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

Naples,  and  laid  siege  to  the  Castello  Nuovo, 
where  the  Queen  was.  She  surrendered. 
Charles  of  Duras  had  her  taken  to  Muro,  in 
the  Basilicata,  and  had  her  put  to  death  seven 
or  eight  months  afterward.  She  was  then  in 
her  fifty-eighth  year.  .  .  .  Some  authors  say 
that  he  caused  her  to  be  smothered,  others  that 
she  was  strangled ;  but  the  more  probable  view 
is  that  she  was  beheaded,  in  1382,  on  the  5th  of 
May.  It  is  said  that  a  Provencal  astrologer, 
doubtless  a  certain  Anselme  who  lived  at  that 
time,  and  who  is  very  famous  in  the  history  of 
Provence,  being  questioned  as  to  the  future  hus- 
band of  the  young  princess,  replied,  'Marita- 
bitur  cum  ALIO.'  This  word  is  composed  of 
the  initials  of  the  names  of  her  four  husbands, 
Andrea,  Louis,  James,  and  Otto.  This  prin- 
cess, furthermore,  was  exceedingly  clever,  fond 
of  the  sciences  and  of  men  of  learning,  of  whom 
she  had  a  great  many  at  her  court,  liberal  and 
beautiful,  prudent,  wise,  and  not  lacking,  in 
piety.  She  it  is  that  sold  Avignon  to  the 
popes.  Boccaccio,  Balde,  and  other  scholars 
of  her  time  speak  of  her  with  praise." 

In  offering  an  explanation  of  the  great  popu- 
larity enjoyed  by  Joanna  of  Naples  among  the 


THE  TRAGEDY,    LA   RfeiNO  JANO  217 

people  of  Provence,  the  poet  does  not  hesitate 
to  acknowledge  that  along  with  her  beauty,  her 
personal  charm,  her  brilliant  arrival  on  the 
gorgeous  galley  at  the  court  of  Clement  VI, 
whither  she  came,  eloquent  and  proud,  to 
exculpate  herself,  her  long  reign  and  its  vicissi- 
tudes, her  generous  efforts  to  reform  abuses, 
must  be  counted  also  the  grewsome  procession 
of  her  four  husbands;  and  this  popularity,  he 
says,  is  still  alive,  after  five  centuries.  The 
poet  places  her  among  such  historic  figures  as 
Caius  Marius,  Ossian,  King  Arthur,  Count 
Raymond  of  Toulouse,  the  good  King  Rene, 
Anne  of  Brittany,  Roland,  the  Cid,  to  which 
the  popular  mind  has  attached  heroic  legends, 
race  traditions,  and  mysterious  monuments. 
The  people  of  Provence  still  look  back  upon 
the  days  of  their  independence  when  she 
reigned,  a  sort  of  good  fairy,  as  the  good  old 
times  of  Queen  Joanna.  Countless  castles, 
bridges,  churches,  monuments,  testify  to  her 
life  among  this  enthusiastic  people.  Roads 
and  ruins,  towers  and  aqueducts,  bear  her 
name.  Proverbs  exist  wherein  it  is  preserved. 
"  For  us,"  says  Mistral,  "  the  fair  Joanna  is 
what  Mary  Stuart  is  for  the  Scotch,  —  a  mirage 


218  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

of  retrospective  love,  a  regret  of  youth,  of 
nationality,  of  poetry  passed  away.  And  anal- 
ogies are  not  lacking  in  the  lives  of  the  two 
royal,  tragic  enchantresses."  Petrarch,  speak- 
ing of  her  and  her  young  husband  surrounded 
by  Hungarians,  refers  to  them  as  two  lambs 
among  wolves.  In  a  letter  dated  from  Van- 
cluse,  August,  1346,  he  deplores  the  death  of 
the  King,  but  makes  no  allusion  to  the  com- 
plicity of  the  Queen. 

Boccaccio  proclaims  her  the  special  pride  of 
Italy,  so  gracious,  gentle,  and  kindly,  that 
she  seemed  rather  the  companion  than  the 
queen  of  her  subjects. 

Our  author  cites  likewise  some  of  her  accus- 
ers, and  considers  most  of  the  current  sayings 
against  her  as  apocryphal.  Some  of  these  will 
not  bear  quotation  in  English.  Mistral  evi- 
dently wishes  to  believe  her  innocent,  and  he 
makes  out  a  pretty  good  case.  He  approves 
the  remark  of  Scipione  Ammirato,  that  she 
contracted  four  successive  marriages  through 
a  desire  to  have  direct  heirs.  Another  notices 
that  had  she  been  dissolute,"  she  would  have 
preferred  the  liberty  of  remaining  a  widow. 
The   poet  cites  Pope  Innocent  VI,  who  gave 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RfeiNO  JANO  219 

her  the  golden  rose,  and  sets  great  store  upon 
the  expression  of  Saint  Catherine  of  Siena,  who 
calls  her  "Venerabile  madre  in  Gesu  Cristo," 
and  he  concludes  by  saying,  "We  prefer  to 
concur  in  the  judgment  of  the  good  Giannone 
(1676-1748),  which  so  well  agrees  with  our 
traditions." 

The  first  act  opens  with  a  picture  that  might 
tempt  a  painter  of  Italian  scenes.  The  Queen 
and  her  gay  court  are  seated  on  the  lawn  of  the 
palace  garden  at  Naples,  overlooking  the  bay 
and  islands.  At  the  very  outset  we  hear  of 
the  Gai  Savoir,  and  the  Queen  utters  the  es- 
sentially Provengal  sentiment  that  "the  chief 
glory  the  world  should  strive  for  is  light,  for 
joy  and  love  are  the  children  of  the  sun,  and 
art  and  literature  the  great  torches."  She  calls 
upon  Anfan  of  Sisteron  to  speak  to  her  of  her 
Provence,  "  the  land  of  God,  of  song  and  youth, 
the  finest  jewel  in  her  crown,"  and  Anfan,  in 
long  and  eloquent  tirades,  tells  of  Toulouse 
and  Nice  and  the  Isles  of  Gold,  reviews  the 
settling  of  the  Greeks,  the  domination  of  the 
Romans,  and  the  sojourn  of  the  Saracens; 
Aix  and  Aries,  les  Baux,  Toulon,  are  glorified 
again;   we  hear  of   the  old  liberties  of  these 


220  FRjfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

towns  where  men  sleep,  sing,  and  shout,  and 
of  the  magnificence  of  the  papal  court  at  Avi- 
gnon. 

"  Enfin,  en  Avignoun,  i'a  lou  papo !  grandeur 
Poud^,  magnificenci,  e  poumpo  e  resplendour, 
Que  mestrejon  la  terro  e  fan,  senso  messorgo, 
Boufa  I'alen  de  Di^u  i  ribo  de  la  Sorgo." 

Lastly,  in  Avignon,  there's  the  Pope  1  greatness,  power, 
magnificence,  pomp,  and  splendor,  dominating  the  earth, 
and  without  exaggeration,  causing  the  breath  of  God  to 
blow  upon  the  banks  of  the  Sorgue. 

We  learn  that  the  brilliancy  and  animation 
of  the  court  at  Avignon  outshine  the  glories 
of  Rome,  and  in  language  that  fairly  glitters 
with  its  high-sounding,  highly  colored  words. 
We  hear  of  Petrarch  and  Laura,  and  the  asso- 
ciations of  Vaucluse. 

At  this  juncture  the  Prince  arrives,  and  is 
struck  by  the  resemblance  of  the  scene  to  a 
court  of  love;  he  wonders  if  they  are  not 
discussing  the  question  whether  love  is  not 
drowned  in  the  nuptial  holy  water  font,  or 
whether  the  lady  inspires  the  lover  as  much 
with  her  presence  as  when  absent.  And  the 
Queen  defends  her  mode  of  life  and  tempera- 
ment ;   she  cannot  brook  the  cold  and  gloomy 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA   R^INO  JANO  221 

ways  of  the  north.  Were  we  to  apply  the 
methods  of  Voltaire's  strictures  of  Corneille 
to  this  play,  it  might  be  interesting  to  see  how 
many  vers  de  comidie  could  be  found  in  these 
scenes  of  dispute  between  the  prince  consort 
and  his  light-hearted  wife. 

"  A  I'avans !  zdu !  en  ffesto  arrouinas  lou  Tresor !  " 
Go  ahead !  that's  right,  ruin  the  treasury  with  your  feasts! 

and  to  his  objections  to  so  many  flattering  cour- 
tiers, the  Queen  replies :  — 

"  Voules  que  moan  palais  devengue  un  mounastie  ?  " 
Do  you  want  my  palace  to  become  a  monastery  ? 

Joanna  replies  nobly  and  eloquently  to  the 
threats  of  her  husband  to  assume  mastery  over 
her  by  violent  means,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
anachronism  (the  poet  makes  her  use  and  seem- 
ingly invent  the  term  Renascence')^  her  defence 
of  the  arts  and  science  of  her  time  is  forceful 
and  enthusiastic,  and  carries  the  reader  along. 
That  this  sort  of  eloquence  is  dramatic,  appears, 
however,  rather  doubtful. 

The  next  scene  interests  us  more  directly  in 
the  characters  before  us.  The  Prince,  left  alone 
with  his  confidant,  Fra  Rupert,  gives  expression 
to  his  passionate  love  for  the  Queen,  and  pours 


222  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

forth  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  to  see  it  unre- 
quited. The  fierce  Hungarian  monk  denounces, 
rather  justly,  it  appears  to  us,  the  license  and 
levity  of  the  Italian  court,  and  incites  Andrea 
to  an  appeal  to  the  Pope,  "a  potentate  that  has 
no  army,  whose  dominion  extends  from  pole  to 
pole,  who  binds  and  unbinds  at  his  will,  up- 
holds, makes,  or  unmakes  thrones  as  an  almighty 
master." 

But  Andrea  fears  the  Queen  would  never 
pardon  him. 

"  E  se  noun  ai  en  plen  Ion  m^u  de  si  caresso, 
L'empferi  universau  m'es  un  gourg  d'amaresso !  " 

And  if  I  have  not  fully  the  honey  of  her  caresses 
The  empire  of  the  world  is  to  me  a  gulf  of  bitterness. 

Finally  the  monk  and  La  Catanaise  stand 
alone  before  us.  This  woman  is  the  Queen's 
nurse,  who  loves  her  with  a  fierce  sort  of  pas- 
sion, and  it  is  she  who  commits  the  crime  that 
causes  the  play  to  be  called  a  tragedy.  This 
final  scene  brings  out  a  flood  of  the  most  violent 
vituperation  from  this  veritable  virago,  some 
of  it  exceedingly  low  in  tone.  The  friar  leaves 
with  the  threat  to  have  a  red-hot  nail  run 
through  her  hellish  tongue,  and  La  Catanaise, 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RfeiNO  JANO  223 

standing  alone,  gives  vent  to  her  fury  in  threats 
of  murder. 

The  next  act  reveals  the  Hall  of  Honor  in 
the  Castel-Nuovo  at  Naples.  Andrea  in  anger 
proclaims  himself  king,  and  in  the  presence  of 
the  Queen  and  the  Italian  courtiers  gives  away 
one  after  another  all  the  offices  and  honors  of 
the  realm  to  his  Hungarian  followers.  A  conflict 
with  drawn  swords  is  about  to  ensue,  when  the 
Queen  rushes  between  the  would-be  combatants, 
reminding  them  of  the  decree  of  the  Pope  ;  but 
Andrea  in  fury  accuses  the  Queen  of  conduct 
worthy  a  shameless  adventuress,  and  cites  the 
reports  that  liken  her  to  Semiramis  in  her 
orgies.  The  Prince  of  Taranto  throws  down 
his  glove  to  the  enraged  Andrea,  who  replies 
by  a  threat  to  bring  him  to  the  executioner. 
The  Prince  of  Taranto  answers  that  the  execu- 
tioner may  be  the  supreme  law  for  a  king, 

"  Mai  per  un  qu'a  I'ounour  dins  lou  pi^s  e  dins  I'amo, 
Uno  escorno,  cousin,  se  purgo  eme  la  lamo." 

But  for  one  who  has  honor  in  his  breast  and  his  soul, 
An  insult,  cousin,  is  purged  with  the  sword. 

Andrea  turns  to  his  knights,  and  leaving  the 
room  with  them  points  to  the  flag  bearing  the 


224  frI:d6ric  mistral 

block  and  axe  as  emblems.  The  partisans  of 
Joanna  remain  full  of  indignation.  La  Cata- 
naise  addresses  them.  The  Sicilians,  she  says, 
waste  no  time  in  words,  but  have  a  speedier 
method  of  punishing  a  wrong,  and  she  reminds 
them  of  the  massacre  at  Palermo.  The  Prince 
of  Taranto  discountenances  the  proposed  crime, 
for  the  Queen's  fair  name  would  suffer.  But 
the  fierce  woman  points  to  the  flag.  "  Do  you 
see  that  axe  hanging  from  a  thread  ?  You  are 
all  cowards  I  Let  me  act  alone."  And  the 
Prince  nobly  replies,  "  Philippine,  battles  are 
fought  in  the  sunlight ;  men  of  our  renown, 
men  of  my  stamp,  do  not  crouch  down  in  the 
dark  shadow  of  a  plot."  And  the  Catanaise 
again  shows  the  flag.  "  Do  you  see  the  axe 
falling  upon  the  block  ?  " 

Joanna  enters  to  offer  the  Prince  her  thanks 
for  his  chivalrous  defence  of  her  fair  name,  and 
dismisses  the  other  courtiers.  The  ensuing 
brief  scene  between  the  Queen  and  the  Prince 
is  really  very  eloquent  and  very  beautiful. 
The  Queen  recalls  the  fact  that  she  was  married 
at  nine  to  Andrea,  then  only  a  child  too  ;  and 
she  has  never  known  love.  The  poorest  of 
the  shepherdesses  on  the  mountains  of  Calabria 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RfelNO  JANO  225 

may  quench  her  thirst  at  the  spring,  but  she, 
the  Queen  of  the  Sun,  if  to  pass  away  the  time, 
or  to  have  the  appearance  of  happiness,  she 
loves  to  listen  to  the  echo  of  song,  to  behold 
the  joy  and  brilliancy  of  a  noble  fete,  her 
very  smile  becomes  criminal.  And  the  Prince 
reminds  her  that  she  is  the  Provengal  queen, 
and  that  in  the  great  times  of  that  people,  if 
the  consort  were  king,  love  was  a  god,  and  he  re- 
calls the  names  of  all  the  ladies  made  famous  by 
the  Troubadours.  Thereupon  the  Queen  in  an 
outburst  of  enthusiasm  truly  Felibrean  invokes 
the  God  of  Love,  the  God  that  slew  Dido,  and 
speaks  in  the  spirit  of  the  days  of  courtly  love, 
"  O  thou  God  of  Love,  hearken  unto  me.  If  my 
fatal  beauty  is  destined  sooner  or  later  to  bring 
about  my  death,  let  this  flame  within  me  be,  at 
least,  the  pyre  that  shall  kindle  the  song  of  the 
poet !  Let  my  beauty  be  the  luminous  star 
exalting  men's  hearts  to  lofty  visions ! " 

The  chivalrous  Prince  is  dismissed,  and 
Joanna  is  alone  with  her  thoughts.  The  little 
page  Dragonet  sings  outside  a  plaintive  song 
with  the  refrain  :  — 

"  Que  regret !  What  regret  I 

Jamai  digues  toun  secret."         Never  tell  thy  secret. 

Q 


226  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

La  Catanaise  endeavors  to  excite  the  fears  of 
the  Queen,  insinuating  that  the  Pope  may  give 
the  crown  to  Andrea.     Joanna  has  no  fear. 

"We  shall  have  but  to  appear  before  the 
country  with  this  splendor  of  irresistible  grace, 
and  like  the  smoke  borne  away  by  the  breeze, 
suddenly  my  enemies  shall  disappear." 

We  may  ask  whether  such  self-praise  comes 
gracefully  from  the  Queen  herself,  whether  she 
might  not  be  less  conscious  of  her  own  charm. 
La  Catanaise  is  again  alone  on  the  scene,  threat- 
ening. "The  bow  is  drawn,  the  hen  setting." 
This  last  comparison,  the  reader  will  remark, 
would  be  simply  impossible  as  the  termination 
of  an  act  in  a  serious  English  play.  This  last 
scene,  too,  is  wofully  weak  and  purposeless. 

The  conversation  of  three  courtiers  at  the 
beginning  of  Act  III  apprises  us  of  the  fact 
that  the  Pope  has  succeeded  in  bringing  about 
a  reconciliation  between  the  royal  pair,  and  that 
they  are  both  to  be  crowned,  and  as  a  matter  of 
precaution,  the  nurse  Philippine,  and  the  monk 
Fra  Rupert  are  to  be  sent  upon  their  several 
ways.  The  scene  is  next  filled  by  the  conspir- 
ators. La  Catanaise  directing  the  details  of  the 
plots.     It  is  made   clear  that   the    Queen   is 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RkmO  JANO  227 

utterly  ignorant  of  these  proceedings,  which  are 
after  all  useless ;  for  we  fail  to  see  what  valid 
motive  these  plotters  have  to  urge  them  on  to 
their  contemptible  deed.  A  brilliant  banquet 
scene  ensues,  wherein  Anfan  of  Sisteron  sings 
a  song  of  seven  stanzas  about  the  fairy  M^lu- 
sine,  and  seven  times  Dragonet  sings  the  refrain, 
"Sian  de  la  rago  di  lesert"  (We  are  of  the 
race  of  the  lizards).  And  there  are  enthusias- 
tic tirades  in  praise  of  the  Queen  and  of  Pro- 
vence, and  all  is  merry.  But  Andrea  spills  salt 
upon  the  table,  which  evil  augury  seems  to  be 
taken  seriously.  This  little  episode  is  foolish, 
and  unworthy  of  a  tragedy.  We  are  on  the 
verge  of  an  assassination.  Either  the  gloomy 
forebodings  and  the  terror  of  the  event  should 
be  impressed  upon  us,  or  the  exaggerated  gayety 
and  high  spirits  of  the  revellers  should  by  con- 
trast make  the  coming  event  seem  more  terri- 
ble; but  the  spilling  of  salt  is  utterly  trivial. 
After  the  feast  La  Catanaise  and  her  daughter 
proceed  to  their  devilish  work,  in  the  room  now 
lighted  only  by  the  pale  rays  of  the  moon,  while 
the  voice  of  the  screech-owl  is  heard  outside. 
The  trap  is  set  for  the  King ;  he  is  strangled 
just  out  of  sight  with  the  silken  noose.     The 


228  FR6d6rIC   mistral 

Queen  is  roused  by  her  nurse.  The  palace  is 
in  an  uproar,  and  the  act  terminates  with  a  pas- 
sionate demand  for  vengeance  and  justice  on 
the  part  of  Fra  Rupert. 

And  now  the  Fourth  Act.  Here  Mistral  is  in 
his  element ;  here  his  love  of  rocky  landscapes, 
of  azure  seas  and  golden  islands,  of  song  and 
festivity,  finds  full  play.  The  tragedy  is  for- 
gotten, the  dramatic  action  completely  inter- 
rupted,—  never  mind.  We  accompany  the 
Queen  on  her  splendid  galley  all  the  way  from 
Naples  to  Marseilles.  She  leaves  amid  the 
acclamations  of  the  Neapolitans,  recounts  the 
splendors  of  the  beautiful  bay,  and  promises  to 
return  "like  the  star  of  night  coming  out  of  the 
mist,  laurel  in  hand,  on  the  white  wings  of  her 
Provengal  galley."  The  boat  starts,  the  rowers 
sing  their  plaintive  rhythmic  songs,  the  Queen 
is  enraptured  by  the  beauty  of  the  fleeing 
shores,  the  white  sail  glistens  in  the  glorious 
blue  above.  She  is  lulled  by  the  motion  of  the 
boat  and  the  waving  of  the  hangings  of  purple 
and  gold.  Midway  on  her  journey  she  receives 
a  visit  from  the  Infante  of  Majorca,  James  of 
Aragon,  who  seems  to  be  wandering  over  that 
part  of  the  sea;  then  the  astrologer  Anselme 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RtlINO  JANO  229 

predicts  her  marriage  with  Alio  and  her  death. 
She  shall  be  visited  with  the  sins  of  her  ances- 
tors ;  the  blood  spilled  by  Charles  of  Anjou  cries 
for  vengeance.  The  Queen  passes  through  a 
moment  of  gloom.  She  dispels  it,  exclaiming : 
"  Be  it  so,  strike  where  thou  wilt,  O  fate,  I  am 
a  queen ;  I  shall  fight,  if  need  be,  until  death, 
to  uphold  my  cause  and  my  womanly  honor. 
If  my  wild  planet  is  destined  to  sink  in  a  sea 
of  blood  and  tears,  the  glittering  trace  I  shall 
leave  on  the  earth  will  show  at  least  that  I  was 
worthy  to  be  thy  great  queen,  O  brilliant 
Provence !  " 

She  descends  into  the  ship,  and  the  rowers 
resume  their  song.  Later  we  arrive  at  Nice, 
where  the  Queen  is  received  by  an  exultant 
throng.  She  forgets  the  awful  predictions  and 
is  utterly  filled  with  delight.  She  will  visit  all 
the  cities  where  she  is  loved,  her  ambition  is  to 
see  her  flag  greeted  all  along  the  Mediterranean 
with  shouts  of  joy  and  love.  She  feels  herself 
to  be  a  Proven9ale.  "  Come,  people,  here  I  am; 
breathe  me  in,  drink  me  in  !  It  is  sweet  to  me 
to  be  yours,  and  sweet  to  please  you;  and  you 
may  gaze  in  love  and  admiration  upon  me,  for  I 
am  your  queen  ! " 


230  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

The  journey  is  resumed.  We  pass  the  Isles 
of  Gold,  and  the  raptures  are  renewed.  At 
Marseilles  the  Queen  is  received  by  the  Consuls, 
and  swears  solemnly  to  respect  all  the  rights, 
customs,  and  privileges  of  the  land,  and  the 
Consul  exacts  as  the  last  oath  that  she  swear  to 
see  that  the  noble  speech  of  Aries  shall  be  main- 
tained and  spoken  in  the  land  of  Provence. 
The  act  closes  with  the  sentiment,  "May  Pro- 
vence triumph  in  every  way  ! " 

The  last  act  brings  us  to  the  great  hall  of 
the  papal  palace  at  Avignon,  where  the  Pope  is 
to  pronounce  judgment  upon  the  Queen.  Fra 
Rupert,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  harangues  the 
throng,  and  two  Hungarian  knights  are  beaten 
in  duel  by  Galeas  of  Mantua.  This  duel,  with 
its  alternate  cries  of  Dau  !  Dau !  Te  !  Te  ! 
Zou !  Zou !  is  difficult  to  take  seriously  and 
reminds  us  of  Tartarin.  The  Queen  enters  in 
conversation  with  Petrarch.  The  Hungarian 
knights  utter  bitter  accusations  against  the 
Queen,  who  gives  them  in  place  of  iron  chains 
the  golden  chains  about  her  neck,  whereupon 
the  knights  gallantly  declare  their  hearts  are 
won  forever.  The  doors  open  at  the  back  and 
we  see   the  papal  court.     Bertrand   des   Baux 


THE  TRAGEDY,  LA  RillNO  JANO  231 

gives  a  hideous  account  of  the  torture  and 
death  of  those  who  had  a  hand  in  the  death  of 
Andrea.  The  Queen  makes  a  long  speech,  ex- 
pressing her  deep  grief  at  the  calumnies  and 
slander  that  beset  her.  The  court  and  people 
resolve  themselves  into  a  kind  of  opera  chorus, 
expressing  their  various  sentiments  in  song. 
The  Queen  next  reviews  her  life  with  Andrea, 
and  concludes :  — 

"  And  it  seemed  to  me  noble  and  worthy  of 
a  queen  to  melt  with  a  glance  the  cold  of  the 
frost,  to  make  the  almond  tree  blossom  with  a 
smile,  to  be  amiable  to  all,  affable,  generous, 
and  lead  my  people  with  a  thread  of  wool ! 
Yes,  all  the  thought  of  my  mad  youth  was  to  be 
loved  and  to  reign  by  the  power  of  love.  Who 
could  have  foretold  that,  afterward,  on  the  day 
of  the  great  disaster,  all  this  should  be  made  a 
reproach  against  me!  that  I  should  be  accused, 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  of  instigating  an  awful 
crime ! " 

And  she  breaks  down  weeping.  The  page, 
the  people,  the  pilgrim,  and  the  astrologer  again 
sing  in  a  sort  of  operatic  ensemble  their  various 
emotions.  The  Pope  absolves  the  Queen,  the 
pilgrim   denounces  the  verdict  furiously,  and 


232  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

is  put  to  death  by  Gal^as  of  Mantua.  So  ends 
the  play. 

La  Reino  Jano  is  a  pageant  rather  than  a 
tragedy.  It  is  full  of  song  and  sunshine,  glow 
and  glitter.  The  characters  all  talk  in  the  ex- 
aggerated and  exuberant  style  of  Mistral,  who 
is  not  dramatist  enough  to  create  independent 
being,  living  before  us.  The  central  person- 
age is  in  no  sense  a  tragic  character.  The 
fanatical  Fra  Rupert  and  the  low,  vile-tongued 
Catanaise  are  not  tragic  characters.  The  psy- 
chology throughout  is  decidedly  upon  the 
surface. 

The  author  in  his  introduction  warns  us  that 
to  judge  this  play  we  must  place  ourselves  at 
the  point  of  view  of  the  Provencals,  in  whom 
many  an  expression  or  allusion  that  leaves  the 
ordinary  reader  or  spectator  untouched,  will 
possibly  awaken,  as  he  hopes,  some  particular 
emotion.  This  is  true  of  all  his  literature ;  the 
Provencal  language,  the  traditions,  the  memo- 
ries of  Provence,  are  the  web  and  woof  of  it  all. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  impression  made 
by  the  language  upon  a  Frenchman  and  a  critic 
of  the  rank  of  Jules  Lemaitre.  He  says  in 
concluding  his  review  of  this  play :  — 


THE  TRAGEDY,   LA  RfeiNO  JANO  233 

"The  language  is  too  gay,  it  has  too  much 
sing-song,  it  is  too  harmonious.  It  does  not 
possess  the  rough  gravity  of  the  Spanish,  and 
has  too  few  of  the  i's  and  e's  that  soften  the 
sonority  of  the  Italian.  I  may  venture  to  say 
it  is  too  expressive,  too  full  of  onomatopoeia. 
Imagine  a  language,  in  which  to  say,  "He 
bursts  out  laughing,"  one  must  use  the  word 
e'escacalasso  !  There  are  too  many  ow's  and  omw's 
and  too  much  ts  and  dz  in  the  pronunciation. 
So  that  the  Provencal  language,  in  spite  of 
everything,  keeps  a  certain  patois  vulgarity. 
It  forces  the  poet,  so  to  say,  to  perpetual  song- 
making.  It  must  be  very  difficult,  in  that 
language,  to  have  an  individual  style,  still  more 
difficult  to  express  abstract  ideas.  But  it  is  a 
merry  language." 

The  play  has  never  yet  been  performed,  and 
until  a  trial  is  made,  one  is  inclined  to  think  it 
would  not  be  effective,  except  as  a  spectacle. 
It  is  curious  that  the  Troubadours  produced  no 
dramatic  literature  whatever,  and  that  the  same 
lack  is  found  in  the  modern  revival. 

Aubanel's  Lou  Pan  d6u  Pecat  (The  Bread 
of  Sin),  written  in  1863,  and  performed  in  1878 
at  Montpellier,  seems  to  have  been  successful, 


234  FRfeDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

and  was  played  at  Paris  at  the  Theatre  Libre  in 
1888,  in  the  verse-translation  made  by  Paul 
Arene.  Aubanel  wrote  two  other  plays,  Lou 
Pastre^  which  is  lost,  and  Lou  Raubatdn,  a  work 
that  must  be  considered  unfinished.  Two  plays, 
therefore,  constitute  the  entire  dramatic  pro- 
duction in  the  new  language. 


PART  THIRD 
CONCLUSIONS 


CONCLUSIONS 

It  would  be  idle  to  endeavor  to  determine 
whether  Mistral  is  to  be  classed  as  a  great  poet, 
or  whether  the  Felibres  have  produced  a  great 
literature,  and  nothing  is  defined  when  the 
statement  is  made  that  Mistral  is  or  is  not  a 
great  poet.  His  genius  may  be  said  to  be  lim- 
ited geographically,  for  if  from  it  were  elimi- 
nated all  that  pertains  directly  to  Provence, 
the  remainder  would  be  almost  nothing.  The 
only  human  nature  known  to  the  poet  is  the 
human  nature  of  Provence,  and  while  it  is 
perfectly  true  that  a  human  being  in  Provence 
could  be  typical  of  human  nature  in  general,  and 
arouse  interest  in  all  men  through  his  humanity 
common  to  all,  the  fact  is,  that  Mistral  has  not 
sought  to  express  what  is  of  universal  inter- 
est, but  has  invariably  chosen  to  present  human 
life  in  its  Provengal  aspects  and  from  one  point 
of  view  only.  A  second  limitation  is  found  in 
287 


238  FR^D^RIC  MISTRAL 

the  unvarying  exteriority  of  his  method  of  pre- 
senting human  nature.  Never  does  he  probe 
deeply  into  the  souls  of  his  Provengals.  Very 
vividly  indeed  does  he  reproduce  their  words 
and  gestures ;  but  of  the  deeper  under-currents, 
the  inner  conflicts,  the  agonies  of  doubt  and 
indecision,  the  bitterness  of  disappointments, 
the  lofty  aspirations  toward  a  higher  inner  life 
or  a  closer  communion  with  the  universe,  the 
moral  problems  that  shake  a  human  soul,  not  a 
syllable.  Nor  is  he  a  poet  who  pours  out  his 
own  soul  into  verse. 

External  nature  is  for  him,  again,  nature  as 
seen  in  Provence.  The  rocks  and  trees,  the 
fields  and  the  streams,  do  not  awaken  in  him  a 
stir  of  emotions  because  of  their  power  to  com- 
pel a  mood  in  any  responsive  poetic  soul,  but 
they  excite  him  primarily  as  the  rocks  and  trees, 
the  fields  and  streams  of  his  native  region.  He 
is  no  mere  word-painter.  Rarely  do  his  descrip- 
tions appear  to  exist  for  their  own  sake.  They 
furnish  a  necessary,  fitting,  and  delightful  back- 
ground to  the  action  of  his  poems.  They  are 
too  often  indications  of  what  a  Provengal  ought 
to  consider  admirable  or  wonderful,  they  are 
sometimes  spoiled  by  the  poet's  excessive  par- 


CONCLUSIONS  239 

tiality  for  his  own  little  land.  His  work  is 
ever  the  work  of  a  man  with  a  mission. 

There  is  no  profound  treatment  of  the  theme 
of  love.  Each  of  the  long  poems  and  his  play 
have  a  love  story  as  the  centre  of  interest,  but 
the  lovers  are  usually  children,  and  their  love 
utterly  without  complications.  There  is  every- 
where a  lovely  purity,  a  delightful  simplicity, 
a  straightforward  naturalness  that  is  very 
charming,  but  in  this  theme  as  in  the  others. 
Mistral  is  incapable  of  tragic  depths  and  heights. 
So  it  is  as  regards  the  religious  side  of  man's 
nature.  The  poet's  work  is  filled  with  allu- 
sions to  religion ;  there  are  countless  legends 
concerning  saints  and  hermits,  descriptions  of 
churches  and  the  papal  palace,  there  is  the 
detailed  history  of  the  conversion  of  Provence 
to  Christianity,  but  the  deepest  religious  spirit 
is  not  his.  Only  twice  in  all  his  work  do  we 
come  upon  a  profounder  religious  sense,  in  the 
second  half  of  Lou  Prego-BiSu  and  in  Lou 
Saume  de  la  Penitenei.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  Mistral  is  a  believer,  but  religious  feeling 
has  not  a  large  place  in  his  work  ;  there  are  no 
other  meditations  upon  death  and  destiny. 

And  this  dme  du  Midi,  spirit  of  Provence,  the 


240  FRfiDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

genius  of  his  race  that  he  has  striven  to  express, 
what  is  it?  How  shall  it  be  defined  or  formu- 
lated? Alphonse  Daudet,  who  knew  it,  and 
loved  it,  whose  Parisian  life  and  world-wide 
success  did  not  destroy  in  him  the  love  of  his 
native  Provence,  who  loved  the  very  food  of 
the  Midi  above  all  others,  and  jumped  up  in 
joy  when  a  southern  intonation  struck  his  ear, 
and  who  was  continually  beset  with  longings  to 
return  to  the  beloved  region,  has  well  defined  it. 
He  was  the  friend  of  Mistral  and  followed  the 
poet's  efforts  and  achievements  with  deep  and 
affectionate  interest.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see 
that  the  satire  in  the  "  Tartarin  "  series  is  not 
unkind,  nor  is  it  untrue.  Daudet  approved  of 
the  Felibrige  movement,  though  what  he  him- 
self wrote  in  Provengal  is  insignificant.  He 
believed  that  the  national  literature  could  be 
best  vivified  by  those  who  most  loved  their 
homes,  that  the  best  originality  could  thus  be 
attained.     He  has  said  :^  — 

"  The  imagination  of  the  southerners  differs 
from  that  of  the  northerners  in  that  it  does  not 
mingle  the  different  elements  and  forms  in  lit- 
erature, and  remains  lucid  in  its  outbreaks.     In 

1  See  Bevue  de  Paris,  15  avril,  1898. 


CONCLUSIONS  241 

our  most  complex  natures  you  never  encounter 
the  entanglement  of  directions,  relations,  and 
figures  that  characterizes  a  Carlyle,  a  Browning, 
or  a  Poe.  For  this  reason  the  man  of  the  north 
always  finds  fault  with  the  man  of  the  south 
for  his  lack  of  depth  and  darkness. 

"If  we  consider  the  most  violent  of  human 
passions,  love,  we  see  that  the  southerner  makes 
it  the  great  affair  of  his  life,  but  does  not  allow 
himself  to  become  disorganized.  He  likes  the 
talk  that  goes  with  it,  its  lightness,  its  change. 
He  hates  the  slavery  of  it.  It  furnishes  a  pre- 
text for  serenades,  fine  speeches,  light  scoffing, 
caresses.  He  finds  it  difficult  to  comprehend 
the  joining  together  of  love  and  death,  which 
lies  in  the  northern  nature,  and  casts  a  shade  of 
melancholy  upon  these  brief  delights." 

Daudet  notes  the  ease  with  which  the  south- 
erner is  carried  away  and  duped  by  the  mirage 
of  his  own  fancy,  his  semi-sincerity  in  excite- 
ment and  enthusiasm.  He  admired  the  natural 
eloquence  of  his  Provengals.  He  found  a  justi- 
fication for  their  exaggerations. 

"  Is  it  right  to  accuse  a  man  of  lying,  who  is 
intoxicated  with  his  own  eloquence,  who,  with- 
out evil  intent,  or  love  of  deceit,  or  any  instinct 


242  FRfeDifeRIC  MISTRAL 

of  scheming  or  false  trading,  seeks  to  embellish 
his  own  life,  and  other  people's,  with  stories  he 
knows  to  be  illusions,  but  which  he  wishes  were 
true?  Is  Don  Quixote  a  liar?  Are  all  the 
poets  deceivers  who  aim  to  free  us  from  reali- 
ties, to  go  soaring  off  into  space?  After  all, 
among  southerners,  there  is  no  deception. 
Each  one,  within  himself,  restores  things  to 
their  proper  proportions." 

Daudet  had  Mistral's  love  of  the  sunshine. 
He  needed  it  to  inspire  him.  He  believed  it 
explained  the  southern  nature. 

Concerning  the  absence  of  metaphysics  in  the 
race  he  says  :  — 

"These  reasonings  may  culminate  in  a  state 
of  mind  such  as  we  see  extolled  in  Buddhism,  a 
colorless  state,  joyless  and  painless,  across  which 
the  fleeting  splendors  of  thought  pass  like  stars. 
Well,  the  man  of  the  south  cares  naught  for 
that  sort  of  paradise.  The  vein  of  real  sensa- 
tion is  freely,  perpetually  open,  open  to  life. 
The  side  that  pertains  to  abstraction,  to  logic, 
is  lost  in  mist." 

We  have  referred  to  the  power  of  story- 
telling among  the  Provengals  and  their  re- 
sponsiveness as   listeners.      Daudet   mentions 


CONCLUSIONS  243 

the  contrast  to  be  observed  between  an  audi- 
ence of  southerners  and  the  stolid,  self-con- 
tained attitude  of  a  crowd  in  the  north. 

The  evil  side  of  the  southern  temperament, 
the  faults  that  accompany  these  traits,  are 
plainly  stated  by  the  great  novelist.  En- 
thusiasm turns  to  hypocrisy,  or  brag  ;  the 
love  of  what  glitters,  to  a  passion  for  luxury 
at  any  cost ;  sociability,  the  desire  to  please, 
become  weakness  and  fulsome  flattery.  The 
orator  beats  his  breast,  his  voice  is  hoarse, 
choked  with  emotion,  his  tears  flow  conven- 
iently, he  appeals  to  patriotism  and  the  noblest 
sentiments.  There  is  a  legend,  according  to 
Daudet,  which  says  that  when  Mirabeau  cried 
out,  "We  will  not  leave  unless  driven  out  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet,"  a  voice  off  at  one 
side  corrected  the  utterance,  murmuring  sarcas- 
tically, "And  if  the  bayonets  come,  we  make 
tracks  !  " 

The  southerner,  when  he  converses,  is  roused 
to  animation  readily.  His  eye  flashes,  his  words 
are  uttered  with  strong  intonations,  the  im- 
pressiveness  of  a  quiet,  earnest,  self-contained 
manner  is  unknown  to  him. 

Daudet  is  a  novelist  and  a  humorist.     Mis- 


244  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

tral  is  a  poet ;  hence,  although  he  professes  to 
aim  at  a  full  expression  of  the  "soul  of  his 
Provence,"  there  are  many  aspects  of  the  Pro- 
vengal  nature  that  he  has  not  touched  upon. 
He  has  omitted  all  the  traits  that  lend  them- 
selves to  satirical  treatment,  and,  although  he 
is  in  many  ways  a  remarkable  realist,  he  has 
very  little  dramatic  power,  and  seems  to  lack 
the  gift  of  searching  analysis  of  individual 
character.  It  is  hardly  fair  to  reckon  it  as  a 
shortcoming  in  the  poet  and  apostle  of  Pro- 
vence that  he  presents  only  what  is  most  beauti- 
ful in  the  life  about  him.  The  novelist  offers 
us  a  faithful  and  vivid  image  of  the  men  of  his 
own  day.  The  poet  glorifies  the  past,  clings  to 
tradition,  and  exhorts  his  countrymen  to  return 
to  it. 

Essentially  and  above  all  else  a  conservative. 
Mistral  has  the  gravest  doubts  about  so-called 
modern  progress.  Undoubtedly  honest  in  de- 
siring the  well-being  of  his  fellow  Proven9als, 
he  believes  that  this  can  be  preserved  or  attained 
only  by  a  following  of  tradition.  There  must 
be  no  breaking  with  the  past.  Daudet,  late  in 
life,  adhered  to  this  doctrine.  His  son  quotes 
him  as  saying  :  — 


CONCLUSIONS  246 

"I  am  followiDg,  with  gladness,  the  results 
of  the  impulse  Mistral  has  given.  Return  to 
tradition !  that  is  our  salvation  in  the  present 
going  to  pieces.  I  have  always  felt  this  in- 
stinctively. It  came  to  me  clearly  only  a  few 
years  ago.  It  is  a  bad  thing  to  become  wholly 
loosened  from  the  soil,  to  forget  the  village 
church  spire.  Curiously  enough  poetry  at- 
taches only  to  objects  that  have  come  down  to 
us,  that  have  had  long  use.  What  is  called 
progress^  a  vague  and  very  doubtful  term,  rouses 
the  lower  parts  of  our  intelligence.  The  higher 
parts  vibrate  the  better  for  what  has  moved 
and  inspired  a  long  series  of  imaginative  minds, 
inheriting  each  from  a  predecessor,  strength- 
ened by  the  sight  of  the  same  landscapes,  by 
the  same  perfumes,  by  the  touch  of  the  same 
furniture,  polished  by  wear.  Very  ancient  im- 
pressions sink  into  the  depth  of  that  obscure 
memory  which  we  may  call  the  race-memory^ 
out  of  which  is  woven  the  mass  of  individual 
memories." 

Mistral  is  truly  the  poet  of  the  Midi.  One 
can  best  see  how  superior  he  is  as  an  artist  in 
words  by  comparing  him  with  the  foremost  of 
his  fellow-poets.     He  is  a  master  of  language. 


240  FR^DjfcRIC   MISTRAL 

He  has  the  eloquence,  the  enthusiasm,  the  opti- 
mism of  his  race.  His  poetic  earnestness  saves 
his  tendency  to  exaggerate.  His  style,  in  all 
its  superiority,  is  a  southern  style,  full  of  in- 
terjections, full  of  long,  sonorous  words.  His 
thought,  his  expressions,  are  ever  lucid.  His 
art  is  almost  wholly  objective.  His  work  has 
extraordinary  unity,  and  therefore  does  not  es- 
cape the  monotony  that  was  unavoidable  when 
the  poet  voluntarily  limited  himself  to  a  single 
purpose  in  life,  and  to  treatment  of  the  themes 
thereunto  pertaining.  Believers  in  material 
progress,  those  who  look  for  great  changes  in 
political  and  social  conditions,  will  turn  from 
Mistral  with  indifference.  His  contentment 
with  present  things,  and  his  love  of  the  past, 
are  likely  to  irritate  them.  Those  who  seek  in 
a  poet  consolation  in  the  personal  trials  of  life, 
a  new  message  concerning  human  destiny,  a 
new  note  in  the  everlasting  themes  that  the 
great  poets  have  sung,  will  be  disappointed. 
A  word  must  be  said  of  him  as  a  writer  of 
French.  In  the  earlier  years  he  felt  the  weight 
of  the  Academy.  He  did  not  feel  that  French 
would  allow  full  freedom.  He  was  scrupulous 
and  timid.      He  soon  shook  off  this  timidity 


CONCLUSIONS  247 

and  became  a  really  remarkable  wielder  of  the 
French  tongue.  His  trafislations  of  his  own 
works  have  doubtless  reached  a  far  wider  pub- 
lic than  the  works  themselves,  and  are  certainly 
characterized  by  great  boldness,  clearness,  and 
an  astonishingly  large  vocabulary. 

His  earlier  work  is  clearly  inspired  by  his 
love  of  Greek  literature,  and  those  qualities 
in  Latin  literature  wherein  the  Greek  genius 
shines  through,  possibly  also  by  some  mysteri- 
ous affinity  with  the  Greek  spirit  resulting  from 
climate  or  atavism.  This  never  entirely  left 
him.  When  later  he  writes  of  Provence  in  the 
Middle  Age,  of  the  days  of  the  Troubadours, 
his  manner  does  not  change  ;  his  work  offers 
no  analogies  here  with  the  French  Romantic 
school. 

No  poet,  it  would  seem,  was  ever  so  in  love 
with  his  own  language  ;  no  artist  ever  so  loved 
the  mere  material  he  was  using.  Mistral  loves 
the  words  he  uses,  he  loves  their  sound,  he  loves 
to  hear  them  from  the  lips  of  those  about  him; 
he  loves  the  intonations  and  the  cadences  of 
his  verse  ;  his  love  is  for  the  speech  itself  aside 
from  any  meaning  it  conveys.  A  beautiful  in- 
strument it  is  indeed.   Possibly  nothing  is  more 


248  FRifeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

peculiarly  striking  about  him  than  this  extreme 
enthusiasm  for  his  golden  speech,  his  lengo 
d'or. 

To  him  must  be  conceded  the  merit  of  origi- 
nality, great  originality.  In  seeking  the  source 
of  many  of  his  conceptions,  one  is  led  to  the 
conclusion,  and  his  own  testimony  bears  it  out, 
that  they  are  the  creations  of  his  own  fancy. 
If  there  is  much  prosaic  realism  in  the  Poem 
of  the  Hhone,  the  Prince  and  the  Anglore  are 
purely  the  children  of  Mistral's  almost  naive 
imagination,  and  Calendau  and  Esterello  are 
attached  to  the  real  world  of  history  by  the 
slenderest  bonds.  When  we  seek  for  resem- 
blances between  his  conceptions  and  those  of 
other  poets,  we  can  undoubtedly  find  them. 
Mireille  now  and  then  reminds  of  Daphnis  and 
Chloe,  of  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  of  Evange- 
line, but  the  differences  are  far  more  in  evidence 
than  the  resemblances.  Esterello  is  in  an  atti- 
tude toward  Calendau  not  without  analogy  to 
that  of  Beatrice  toward  Dante,  but  it  would  be 
impossible  to  find  at  any  point  the  slightest 
imitation  of  Dante.  Some  readers  have  been 
reminded  of  Faust  in  reading  Nerto,  but  beyond 
the  scheme  of  the  Devil  to  secure  a  woman's 


CONCLUSIONS  249 

soul,  there  is  little  similarity.  Nothing  could 
be  more  utterly  without  philosophy  than  Nerto. 
Mistral  has  drawn  his  inspirations  from  within 
himself ;  he  has  not  worked  over  the  poems  and 
legends  of  former  poets,  or  sought  much  of  his 
subject-matter  in  the  productions  of  former 
ages.  He  has  not  suffered  from  the  deep  re- 
flection, the  pondering,  and  the  doubt  that 
destroy  originality. 

If  Mistral  had  written  his  poems  in  French, 
he  would  certainly  have  stood  apart  from  the 
general  line  of  French  poets.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  attach  him  to  any  of  the  so- 
called  "  schools  "  of  poetry  that  have  followed 
one  another  during  this  century  in  France.  He  is 
as  unlike  the  Romantics  as  he  is  unlike  the  Par- 
nassians. M.  Brunetiere  would  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  applying  to  his  work  the  general  epithet 
of  "social"  that  so  well  characterizes  French 
literature  considered  in  its  main  current,  for 
Mistral  always  sings  to  his  fellow-men  to  move 
them,  to  persuade  them,  to  stir  their  hearts. 
Almost  all  of  his  poems  in  the  lyrical  form 
show  him  as  the  spokesman  of  his  fellows  or 
as  the  leader  urging  them  to  action.  He  is 
therefore  not  of  the  school  of  "  Art  for  Art's 


250  FR:feDfeRIC  MISTRAL 

sake,"  but  his  art  is  consecrated  to  the  cause  he 
represents. 

His  thought  is  ever  pure  and  high ;  his  les- 
sons are  lessons  of  love,  of  noble  aims,  of  energy 
and  enthusiasm.  He  is  full  of  love  for  the  best 
in  the  past,  love  of  his  native  soil,  love  of  his 
native  landscapes,  love  of  the  men  about  him, 
love  of  his  country.  He  is  a  poet  of  the  "Gai 
Saber,"  joyous  and  healthy,  he  has  never  felt  a 
trace  of  the  bitterness,  the  disenchantment,  the 
gloom  and  the  pain  of  a  Byron  or  a  Leopardi. 
He  is  eminently  representative  of  the  race  he 
seeks  to  glorify  in  its  own  eyes  and  in  the 
world's,  himself  a  type  of  that  race  at  its  very 
best,  with  all  its  exuberance  and  energy,  with  its 
need  of  outward  manifestation,  life  and  move- 
ment. An  important  place  must  be  assigned 
to  him  among  those  who  have  bodied  forth 
their  poetic  conceptions  in  the  various  eupho- 
nious forms  of  speech  descended  from  the 
ancient  speech  of  Rome. 

In  Provence,  and  far  beyond  its  borders,  he  is 
known  and  loved.  His  activity  has  not  ceased. 
His  voice  is  still  heard,  clear,  strong,  hopeful, 
inspiring.  Mireille  is  sung  in  the  ruined 
Roman  theatre  at  Aries,  museums  are  founded 


CONCLUSIONS  261 

to  preserve  Provengal  art  and  antiquities,  the 
Felibrean  feasts  continue  with  unabated  enthu- 
siasm. Mistral's  life  is  a  successful  life;  he 
has  revived  a  language,  created  a  literature, 
inspired  a  people.  So  potent  is  art  to-day  in 
the  old  land  of  the  Troubadours.  All  the 
charm  and  beauty  of  that  sunny  land,  all  that 
is  enchanting  in  its  past,  all  the  best,  in  the 
ideal  sense,  that  may  be  hoped  for  in  its  future, 
is  expressed  in  his  musical,  limpid,  lovely  verse. 
Such  a  poet  and  such  a  leader  of  men  is  rare  in 
the  annals  of  literature.  Such  complete  oneness 
of  purpose  and  of  achievement  is  rare  among 
men. 


APPENDIX 

We  offer  here  a  literal  prose  translation  of 
the  Psalm  of  Penitence. 

THE  PSALM  OF  PENITENCE 

I 

Lord,  at  last  thy  wrath  hurleth  its  thunder- 
bolts upon  our  foreheads,  and  in  the  night  our 
vessel  strikes  its  prow  against  the  rocks. 

Lord,  thou  cuttest  us  down  with  the  sword  of 
the  barbarian  like  fine  wheat,  and  not  one  of  the 
cravens  that  we  shielded  comes  to  our  defence. 

Lord,  thou  twistest  us  like  a  willow  wand, 
thou  breakest  down  to-day  all  our  pride  ,•  there 
is  none  to  envy  us,  who  but  yesterday  were  so 
proud. 

Lord,  our  land  goeth  to  ruin  in  war  and 
strife;  and  if  thou  withhold  thy  mercy,  great 
and  small  will  devour  one  another. 

Lord,  thou  art  terrible,  thou  strikest  us  upon 
the  back;  in  awful  turmoil  thou  breakest  our 
power,  compelling  us  to  confess  past  evil. 
268 


264  FRfeD^RIC  MISTRAL 

n 

Lord,  we  had  strayed  away  from  the  austerity 
of  the  old  laws  and  ways.  Virtues,  domestic 
customs,  we  had  destroyed  and  demolished. 

Lord,  giving  an  evil  example,  and  denying 
thee  like  the  heathen,  we  had  one  day  closed  up 
thy  temples  and  mocked  thy  Holy  Christ. 

Lord,  leaving  behind  us  thy  sacraments  and 
commandments,  we  had  brutally  lost  belief  in 
all  but  self-interest  and  progress  ! 

Lord,  in  the  waste  heavens  we  have  clouded 
thy  light  with  our  smoke,  and  to-day  the 
sons  mock  the  nakedness  and  purity  of  their 
fathers. 

Lord,  we  have  blown  upon  thy  Bible  with 
the  breath  of  false  knowledge ;  and  holding 
ourselves  up  like  the  poplar  trees,  we  wretched 
beings  have  declared  ourselves  gods. 

Lord,  we  have  left  the  furrow,  we  have  tram- 
pled all  respect  under  foot ;  and  with  the  heavy 
wine  that  intoxicates  us  we  defile  the  innocent. 

Ill 
Lord,  we  are  thy  prodigal  children,  but  we 
are  thy  Christians  of  old  ;  let  thy  justice  chastise 
us,  but  give  us  not  over  unto  death. 


APPENDIX  255 

Lord,  in  the  name  of  so  many  brave  men, 
who  went  forth  fearless,  valiant,  docile,  grave, 
and  then  fell  in  battle ; 

Lord,  in  the  name  of  so  many  mothers,  who 
are  about  to  pray  to  God  for  their  sons,  and 
who  next  year,  alas !  and  the  year  thereafter, 
shall  see  them  no  more ; 

Lord,  in  the  name  of  so  many  women  who 
have  at  their  bosoms  a  little  child,  and  who, 
poor  creatures,  moisten  the  earth  and  the  sheets 
of  their  beds  with  tears ; 

Lord,  in  the  name  of  the  poor,  in  the  name  of 
the  strong,  in  the  name  of  the  dead  who  shall 
die  for  their  country,  their  duty,  and  their 
faith ; 

Lord,  for  so  many  defeats,  so  many  tears  and 
woes,  for  so  many  towns  ravaged,  for  so  much 
brave,  holy  blood ; 

Lord,  for  so  many  adversities,  for  so  much 
mourning  throughout  our  France,  for  so  many 
insults  upon  our  heads ; 

IV 

Lord,  disarm  thy  justice.  Cast  down  thine 
eye  upon  us,  and  heed  the  cries  of  the  bruised 
and  wounded ! 


258  FR6d6rIC  mistral 

Lord,  if  the  rebellious  cities,  through  their 
luxury  and  folly,  have  overturned  the  scale-pan 
of  thy  balance,  resisting  and  denying  thee ; 

Lord,  before  the  breath  of  the  Alps,  that 
praiseth  God  winter  and  summer,  all  the  trees 
of  the  fields,  obedient,  bow  together ; 

Lord,  France  and  Provence  have  sinned  only 
through  f orgetf ulness ;  do  thou  forgive  us  our 
offences,  for  we  repent  of  the  evil  of  former 
days. 

Lord,  we  desire  to  become  men,  thou  canst 
set  us  free.  We  are  Gallo-Romans,  and  of 
noble  race,  and  we  walk  upright  in  our  land. 

Lord,  we  are  not  the  cause  of  the  evil,  send 
down  upon  us  a  ray  of  peace.  Lord,  help  our 
cause,  and  we  shall  live  again  and  love  thee. 


THE    PRESENT   CAPOULIE   OF   THE 
FELIBRIGE. 

M.  Pierre  Devoluy,  of  the  town  of  Die,  was 
elected  at  Aries,  in  April,  1901.  The  Consistory 
was  presided  over  by  Mistral. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  list  contains  the  most  important  works 
that  have  been  published  concerning  Mistral  and  the 
F^librige.  Numerous  articles  have  appeared  in  nearly 
all  the  languages  of  Europe  in  various  magazines.  Of 
these  only  such  are  mentioned  as  seem  worthy  of  special 
notice. 

WOKKS  CONCERNING  THE  FfiLlBRIGE  IN 
GENERAL 

America 

Janvier,  Thomas  A.,  Numerous  articles  in  the  Century 

Magazine,  New  York,  1893,  and  following  years. 
An  Embassy  to  Provence.     New  York,  1893. 
Preston,  Harriett,  Mistral's  Calendau.    The  Atlantic 
Monthly,  New  York,  1874. 
AuhaneVs    Mibugrano    entreduberto.      The    Atlantic 
Monthly,   New  York,   1874. 

England 

Craig,  Duncan,  Miejour  or  Provencal  Legend,  Life,  Lan- 
guage, and  Literature.     London. 
The  Handbook  of  the  Modern  Provencal  Language. 
Crombie,  J.  W.,  The  Poets  and  Peoples  of  Foreign  Lands: 

Frederic  Mistral.     Elliot,  London,  1890. 
Hartog,  Cecil,  Poets  of  Provence.     London  Contem- 
porary Review,  1894. 
269 


260  frI:d6ric  mistral 

France 

BoissiK,  FiRMiN,  Le  Midi  litteraire  contemporain.    Doular 

doure,  Toulouse,  1887. 
De Bouchaud,  Roumanille  et le  Felibrige.   Mougin, Lyons, 

1896. 
Brun,  C,  L' Evolution  felibreenne.    Paquet,  Lyons,  1896. 
DoNN ADIEU,  F.,  Les  Precurseurs  des  Fe litres.     Quantin, 

Paris,  1888. 
Hennion,  C,  Les  Fleurs  felibresques.    Paris,  1893. 
JouRDANNE,  G.,  Histoire  du  Felibrige.     Roumanille,  Avi- 
gnon, 1897. 
LiNTiLHAC,  E.,  Les  Felibres  a  travers  leur  monde  et  leur 

poesie.     Lemerre,  Paris,  1895. 
Precis  de  la  litterature  franfaise.     Paris,  1890. 
Legre,  L.,  Le  Poke  Theodore  Aubanel.     Paris,  1894. 
Margox,  a.  de,  Les  Precurseurs  des  Felibres.     Beziers, 

1891. 
Marieton,  Paul,  La  Terre  provenfale.     Lemerre,  Paris, 

1894. 
Article  Felibrige  in  the  Grande  Encyclopedic. 
Article  Mistral  in  the  Grande  Encyclopedie. 
Michel,   S.,   La  Petite  Patrie.     Roumanille,  Avignon, 

1894. 
NouLET,  B.,  Essai  sur  I'histoire  litteraire  des  patois  du 

midi  de  la  France,  au  XVIII*  siecle.      Montpel- 

lier,  1877. 
Paris,  Gaston,  Penseurs  et  poetes.    Calmann-L^vy,  Paris, 

1896. 
Restori,  Histoire  de  la  litterature  provent^ale  depuis  les 

temps   les  plus  recule's  jusqu'a   nos  jours.      Mont- 

pellier,  1895.     (Translated  from  the  Italian.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  261 

Roque-Ferrier,  a.,  Melanges  de  critique  litteraire  et  de 

philologie.    Montpellier,  1892. 
Saint-Rene-Taillandier,  v.,  Etudes  litteraires.     Plon 

et  Cie,  Paris,  1881. 
Tavernier,  E.,  La  Renaissance  provenfale  et  Roumanille. 

Gervais,  Paris,  1884. 
Le  mouvement  litteraire  provengal  et  Lis  Isclo  d''Or  de 
Frederic  Mistral.     Aix,  1876. 
De  Terris,   J.,  Roumanille  et  la  litterature  provenfale. 

Blond,  Paris,   1894. 
De  Vinac,  M.,  Les  Fe'libres.    Richaud,  Gap,  1882. 

Germany 

BOhmer,  E.,  Die  provenzalische  Dichtung  der  Gegenwart. 

HeUbronn,  1870. 
KOSCHWITZ,  E.,  Ueher  die  provenzalischen  Feliber  und  ihre 
Vor ganger.     Berlin,  1894. 
Grammaire  historique  de  la  langue  des  Fe'libres.    Greifs- 

wald  and  Paris,  1894. 
A  study  of  Bertuch's  translation  of  Nerto  in  the 
Litteraturhlatt  fur    germanische   und   romanische 
Philologie.     1892. 
A  study  of  Proven9al  phonetics  with  a  translation  of 
the   Cant  dau  Souleu.      Sonderahdruck  aus  der 
ZeitscTirift  fiir  franzosische  Sprache  und  Littera- 
tur.     Berlin,  1893. 
Schneider,  B.,  Bernerkungen  zur  liiterarischen  Beioegung 
auf  neuprovenzalischem  Sprachgebiete.    Berlin,  1887. 
Welter,  N.,  Frederi  Mistral,  der  Dichter  der  Provence. 
Marburg,  1899.  i 

1  The  present  work  was  completed  in  manuscript  before 
the  reception  of  Welter's  book. 


262  FRfeDfiRIC  MISTRAL 

Italy 

LiCBR,  Maria,  /  Felibri,  in  the  Roma  letteraria.    June, 

1893. 
Portal,  E.,  Appunti   letterari:    Sulla  poesia  provenzale. 
Pedone,  Palermo,  1890. 
La  Letteratura  provenzale  moderna.     Reber,  Palermo, 

1893. 
Scritti  vari  di  letteratura  classica  provenzale  moderna. 
Reber,  Palermo,  1895. 
Restori,  a.,  Letteratura  provenzale.    Hoepli,  Milan,  1892. 
ZuccARO,  L.,  Un  avvenimento  letteraria;  Mistral  tragico, 
in  the  Scena  illustrata.     Florence,  1891. 
//  Felibrigio,  rinascimento  delle  lettere  provenzali,  Con- 
cordia.   Novara,  1892. 

Spain 

TuBiNO,  Historia  del  renacimiento  literario  contemporaneo 
en  Calaluna,  Baleares  y  Valencia.     Madrid,  1881. 

MISTRAL'S  WORKS 
Mirfeio.    1859. 

Calendau.     Avignon,  1867.     Paris,  Lemerre,  1887. 
Lis  Isclo  d'Or.     1876. 
Nerto.     Hachette,  Paris,  1884. 
Lou  Tresor  ddu  Felibrige.     Aix,  1886. 
La  Reino  Jano.     Lemerre,  Paris,  1890. 
Lou  Pouemo  ddu  Rose.     Lemerre,  Paris,  1897. 

TRANSLATIONS  OF  MISTRAL'S  WORKS 

H.  Grant,  An  English  Version  of  F.  Mistral's  Mireio/rom 
the  Original  Provencal.     London. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  263 

Harriett  Preston,  Mistral's  Mireio.  A  Provencal  Poem 
Translated.     Roberts  Bros.,  Boston,  1872.     Second 
edition,  1891. 
A.  Bertuch,  Der  Trommler  von  Arcole.    Deutsche  Dich- 
tung,  Dresden,  1890. 
Nerto.     Triibner,  Strassburg,  1890. 
Mireio.    Triibner,  Strassburg,  1892. 
Espouscado.    Zeitschrift  f iir  f ranzosische  Sprache  und 
Litteratur,  XV^,  p.  267. 
Hennion,  Mireille.    Traduction  en  vers  fran9ais. 
E.  RiGAUD,  Mireille.    Metrical  translation  into  French, 

with  the  original  form  of  stanza. 
Jaroslav  Vrchlichky.    Translation  of  several  poems 
of  Mistral  into  Bohemian,  under  the  title,  Z  bdsni 
Mistralovych,  in  the  Review,  Kvety.    Prague,  1886. 
Hostem  u  Basniku.     Prague,  1891.     Contains  seven 
poems  by  Aubanel  and  thirteen  by  Mistral. 
DoM  SiGiSMOND  Bouska,  Le  Tambour  d' Arcole,  in  the 
Review,  Lumir.    Prague,  1893. 
Cantos  IV  and  V  of  Mireio,  in  the  Review,  Vla^U 
Prague,  1894. 
Pelay  Boiz,  Mireio,  in  Catalan. 
RocA  Y  RoCA,  Calendau.     Lo  Gay  Saber,  Barcelona, 

1868. 
C.  Barallat  y  Falguera,  Mireya,  poema  provenzal  de 

Frederico  Mistral  puesto  en  prosa  espanola. 
Maria  Licer,  L' Angela  (Canto  VI  of  Nerto).    Italian. 

Iride,  Casal,  1889. 
A.  Naum,  Traduceri.     Jassy,  1891.     (Translation  into 
Rumanian  of  Canto  IV  of  Mireio,  The  Song  of 
Magali,  and  The  Drummer  of  Arcole.) 
T.  Caxnizzaro,  La  Venere  d'Arli,  in  Vita  Intima.    Milan, 
1891. 


INDEX 


Aasen,  Ivan,  94. 
Alexandrine  verse,  78,  89. 
Alpilles,  11. 
Amiradou,  76,  196. 
Arfene,  Paul,  21,  234. 
Ariosto,  20,  151. 
Armana  prouven^au,  17,  28. 
Aubanel,   Theodore,    15,    17, 

21,  36,  88,  233. 
Aucassin  and  Nicolette,  170. 

Balagenr,  Victor,  31,  32. 
Bello  d'Avoust,  184. 
Berluc-F^russis,  33. 
Boileau,  102. 
Bonaparte- Wyse,  31,  33. 
Bornier,  Henri  de,  33. 
Br^al,  Michel,  34,  72. 
Brunet,  Jean,  16. 
Brunetifere,  79,  249. 
Byron,  250. 

Calendau,  18,  79,  127. 
Capouli^,  19,  36,  36. 
Catalans,  31. 
Cigale.  Soci^t^  de  la,  20,  33. 


Countess,  the,  199. 
Cup,  31,  32,  190. 

Dante,  40,  73,  130,  133,  160, 

248. 
Darmesteter,  41. 
Daudet,  9,  21,  69,  152,  240 

seq. 
Dictionary  of  the  Proven  gal 

language,  20,  92. 
Drac,  165  seq. 
Drummer  of  Arcole,  78,  204. 

Espouscado,  194. 
Evangeline,  122. 

Faust,  248. 
F^libre,  5,  27. 
F^librige,  24  seq. 
F^librige  de  Paris,  16,  20,  33. 
F^librige,  foundation  of,  15. 
F^librige  organized,  19,  34. 
Fin  dou  Meissouni6,  186. 
Floral  games,  20,  32,  35. 
Font-S^gugne,  17. 
Four6s,  Auguste,  37. 


266 


266 


FRiiDiiRIC   MISTRAL 


Garcin,  Eupfene,  16. 
Gi^ra,  Paul,  15. 
Goethe,  123. 
Gounod,  18. 
Gras,  F^lix,  36,  37,  38. 
Gr6vy,  20. 

Homer,  13,  123. 
Hugo,  Victor,  79,  138,    181, 
203. 

Isclo  d'Or,  19,  181. 

Janvier,    Mrs.    Thomas    A., 

38. 
Jasmin,  6,  14,  29,  43,  73, 193. 
Jeanroy,  27. 
Jourdanne,  24,  37. 

Koschwitz,  49. 

Lamartine,  17,  29,  103,  130, 

181,  182,  183,  204. 
Landor,  Walter  Savage,  213, 

214. 
Latin  race,  30,  191,  193. 
Legouvfi,  20. 
Lemaitre,  Jules,  232. 
Leopardi,  260. 
Lintilhac,  Eugfene,  72. 
Littr^,  94. 
Longfellow,  6. 

Maillane,  10,  12. 
Marot,  81. 


Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  213, 

217. 
Mas,  11. 
Mathieu,  Anselme,  13, 15, 21, 

26. 
Meissoun,  14. 
Meyer,  Paul,  33. 
Mila  y  Fontanals,  34. 
Mirabeau,  131,  243. 
Mirfeio,  12,  17,  28,  79,  99. 
Mistral's  marriage,  19. 
Mistral's  Memoirs,  21. 
Mont-Ventoux,  148. 
Museum  of  Aries,  21. 
Musset,  181. 

Napoleon,  164. 
Nerto,  20,  161. 
Noulet,  43. 

Paris,  Gaston,  34,  69, 115. 
Petrarch,  18,  19,  33,  34,  36, 

73,  148,  220. 
Poem  of  the  Rhone,  21,  76, 

89,  169. 
Political  separatism,  15. 
Prfego-Di6u,  84,  204,  206  seq., 

239. 
Provencal  language,  43,  191 

seq. 
Psalm  of  Penitence,  84,  182, 

200  seg.,  239,  263. 

Queens  of  the  F^Ubrige,  36. 


INDEX 


267 


R6ino  Jano,  21,  89,  212. 
Rock  of  Sisyphus,  193,  203. 
Ronsard,  211. 

Roumanille,  7,  9,  14,  15,  17, 
21,  26,  30,  36,  70. 

Saboly,  6. 
Sainte-Beuve,  6. 
Saint-R^my,  7,  10. 
Simon  de  Montfort,  37. 
Songs,  189. 
Sonnets  of  Mistral,  86. 


Tartarin,  69,  230,  240. 
Tavan,  Alphonse,  15. 
Translation,  87,  89,  178,  247. 
Tresor    d6u    Felibrige,    20, 

92. 
Troubadours,  40,  44,  87,  112, 

132,  147,  226,  261. 

Versification,  76. 
Villemain,  29. 
Virgil,  13. 
Voltaire,  221. 


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